//------------------------------//
// Second Offensive: 10 - A Warning Heeded 
// Story: Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly 
// by Firesight 
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Greetings to all readers from Admiral Tailwind in Canterlot.

It has been, needless to say, a long five months for me since the surgery to restore the function of my useless right wing, with the interminably lengthy rehabilitation period following the procedure not helped by either my advancing age or my inability to resume my duties as commanding Admiral in any meaningful way.

Methinks I have finally had enough of it, and I have informed my healers that I will be leaving Canterlot now, intending to tour my bases and inspect my ships for the first time in half a year.  I will do so before joining my daughters for Hearth’s Warming, which is now just four weeks away.

Wind Whistler is, to little surprise, less than happy with my decision, as are those healers who have taken so much time trying to loosen the muscles of my stubbornly stiff wing. I have regained a little more than half the mobility needed to attempt flight, enough to manage a few weak flaps, but each two-hour long healer session seems to produce less and less results as time goes by. As I seem to have hit a proverbial wall and am unable to push past it, I have decided to cease my physical therapy for now to give myself a much needed mental and emotional respite.

And yet, with regards to this story I have derived so much distraction and pleasure in writing for, there is none to be found right now as we have reached a point in its telling that neither Firefly nor myself enjoy. As I make for Royal Navy Base Capricorn at Stalliongrad this cold morn to visit with Commodore Shady, where I wish to inspect the first completed airship of the new and far faster Harpie-inspired Cutlass escort class, I feel compelled to offer up my own perspective on the events of that long ago day when I was forced to oversee a Captain’s Mast, and then carry out its sentence against my own beloved daughter.


—Admiral Tailwind
Commanding Admiral, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot









SACRIFICE
Epic Sad Tragic & Dark Dramatic Orchestral Music Mix




EAS Loyalty
Chief Engineer’s quarters
Cloudsdale, Central District Airship Anchorage
September 5th, 1139 AC
1635 hours

The deed was done. And ‘twas certain there was no taking it back, ever. 

My daughter had been judged and punished as per Princess Luna’s Code of Naval Conduct, and worse, I had wielded the whip that wounded her, both physically and emotionally.

‘Tis certain I was in agony as I did it, doubly so to hear her cries of pain that I knew even then were less due to the injuries I dealt her than her emotional anguish. ‘Tis no lie to say I was unfit for duty the rest of the day once the Nightborne had finally gone off to bed, at which point I returned to my temporary accommodations—as Captain Shady was residing in my quarters after surrendering hers to Captain Typhoon, I was now in those of Lieutenant Commander Flash Fix, who adorned his room with weapons and mementos of his Shetlandian homeland between the Celestial and Lunar Seas—with strict orders to not be disturbed for anything short of a gryphon attack.

‘Twasn’t as if I didn’t understand my daughter’s reaction to seeing her son endangered against her will. Given my own punishment-worthy outburst and assault on the character of Captain Shady during the approach to Epsilon, ‘twasn’t as if I was immune to it, either. But in my case, I’d had the Captain present to back me down hard and remind me of where my duty lay. And yet, looking back, I realized I had not done the same thing for Firefly. Some part of me simply told me not to, perchance sensing that she had to get this out of her system. But given the consequences, was that truly worth the cost?

I had no answers as I entered the room to discover that Flash Fix had left a bottle of his ship-brewed moonshine liquor for me along with two glasses. Accompanying them was a note that said he thought I might need it, and to find him if I wanted to talk. Methinks he was right as the first thing I did was pour a stiff drink and throw it back, wanting to numb myself as quickly as possible.

But ‘twould not be he who would speak to me, as I shortly heard the hooves of my sentries clicking together outside and an “Attention on deck!” call that meant a higher ranked officer than me was present. My visitor could therefore only be either Captain Typhoon or Captain Shady, and I leapt up to open the door, not even bothering to hide the bottle.

To my mild relief, ‘twas the latter, as I wasn’t sure I could have restrained myself from mouthing off to the Captain of the Royal Guard at that moment. “Captain,” I greeted her, standing in respect. “How may I serve?”

“By giving me some of that drink,” she immediately said to my surprise, nodding at my desk. “Flash Fix told me to come here, saying he’d left one of his newest brews for us. To hear him speak of it, he considers it medicinal.”

“We should be so lucky,” I said as I invited her in and poured us both a glass. ‘Twas both stronger and smoother than I remembered it from when I tried it on the foredeck on the eve of battle, which I supposed ‘twas the result of our new blonde-maned earth pony maintenance crew from Epsilon helping to rebuild his smashed still.

“So how do you feel?” she asked as I served her.

“With respect, Captain, just how am I supposed to feel?” I asked her more irritably than I meant to. Other than a single short nap I’d caught in transit to Hollow Shades, I’d been up for nearly thirty hours at that point, and between my emotional agony over whipping Firefly and the continued need to attend the Lunar Council, I suspected I wouldn’t be getting more for some time.

“My daughter lies a broken mare in the brig whilst my grandson remains near death in sickbay. And all for a duel the Captain of the Guard had no business ordering,” I finally voiced the thought I’d been keeping to myself the whole time. “Methinks I can understand her reaction to endangering Gavian, given I nearly challenged you to a duel over fear for their lives during our slow approach to Epsilon.”

She nodded as she levitated her drink and sipped at it, blinking once at its strength. “Our familial ties do not excuse ill-thought actions, Commander. I reminded you of that. So why did you not remind your daughter when you had the chance?” I heard a distinct note of rebuke in her voice.

“I know not,” I initially replied, then sighed. “Or mayhap I do. She has always been fiercely protective of her friends and loved ones, whether her sister or her adopted son. She was fighting for him in her eyes as much as Fell Flight was defending Thunderbolt, and methinks for me to stop them ‘twould only have delayed that explosion, not prevented it. ‘Tis certain their timing was bad, but better to be seen by the Lunar Council than have it happen in the midst of battle.”

Shady said nothing as she topped off my drink, perchance letting me vent. “Mayhap I rationalize, but right now, methinks I find myself as wounded as her. Part of me wishes to yank her out of the brig and hug her, whilst another part demands that I march down the hall to your quarters and challenge Captain Typhoon to a death duel for setting this whole ugly affair in motion, forcing me to flog my own daughter. Even though I know I would lose.”

“Understandable,” she agreed as she picked up the bottle to top off our drinks again. “For what ‘tis worth, ‘twould seem the Nightborne were impressed by our Luna-esque discipline—I was actually complimented in how I dealt with this matter by General Starry Skies himself—and I have spoken with Captain Typhoon since the Mast. Do not think for a moment he is unaware of his role in this and that he bears his own share of blame for it,” she told me tiredly as she raised the glass to her lips again, taking a longer draw.

“But nor does he regret it. He says we need Thunderbolt, and for Gavian to duel and defeat him ‘twas the only way to possibly reclaim him,” she added, though ‘twas certain I could hear the skepticism in her voice. “I know ‘tis cold comfort, but he admits he may have made this inevitable, and that he did greatly underestimate your daughter’s ire.”

‘Twas a skepticism I very much shared. “’Tis no comfort at all. And after seeing that vile stallion attempt to slay Gavian not once but twice, to say nothing of hearing such horrific hatred coming from his muzzle, methinks I have a very hard time believing that a lost soul like him could be of any use to us.”

“To hear the soldiers speak who were here to witness it, he did save Cloudsdale,” Shady reminded me as she started into her second drink. “’Tis said he held off or slew many hundreds of Imperial soldiers by himself. And to see him last night, methinks I could believe it.”

“Mayhap you are right. But still, ‘twould seem we gain but one powerful but highly unstable soldier at the cost of two far more honorable and effective ones, never mind the young life that may have been sacrificed to save him. So how, by the sacred moon of Luna herself, am I supposed to—” There was a hard and rapid knock on the door, followed by it opening to reveal the form of the Mare-at-Arms, looking uncharacteristically nervous

“Commander! Captain! Beg to report,” Cutlass Cleave began, but she trailed off at the silent stares she received.

“I left strict orders not to be disturbed for anything less than an Imperial attack, Master Starpony,” I told her icily, and ‘twas certain the Captain’s glare was just as baleful as mine. “Is there one underway?”

Recognizing our foul mood, she snapped to attention, hard. “My sincerest apologies, Captain and Commander. There is no attack, but this cannot wait until morning. For I have just received word from the sentries outside sickbay… that Thunderbolt has disappeared!”





A suitably ominous ending, Admiral, for a day I’m sure you wish you could forget as much as Captain Firefly. I never knew Thunderbolt; never once met him except in passing a month later when he led the force that saved the defenders of Detrot, slaying two Talaeus to do it.

For myself, I had no herd or children back then, let alone any in the military—even today, I have successfully dissuaded them all from enlisting. So I cannot even pretend to know how much it pained you to do this. ‘Tis not that I ever hesitated to severely discipline underlings, even high-ranking ones, but methinks the methods of my service branch in dealing with such things were far more… informal.

Unlike the Navy, the Equestrian Army did not practice corporal punishment like that—at least, not officially. But ‘tis certain the successful commander was more than willing to use the back of his hoof or flat of his blade to make his displeasure known, and ‘twas also necessary that said commander be both eager and able to duel in order to enforce his will on a reluctant unit.

Methinks I would have to fight a few of the latter before all was said and done over my decisions and losses, starting that very morn atop Harness Hill.


—Rock Biter







Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
0715 hours

“What do you mean, you are in command of the brigade?” asked an angry Lieutenant Colonel Sand Dune, the recently elevated leader of the third brigade’s first regiment, so-named because ‘twas said he had been born on the drifting dunes of Cape Halteras in North Campelonia. “On whose authority?” he demanded to know, his blazing blue eyes almost seeming to glow.

I kept my voice level and my glare steely before the hot-tempered earth pony stallion, who was at least twelve years my junior. ‘Twas but ten minutes after the end of the last attack and I was still trying to get my hilltop defenses reset and my new brigade rapidly reorganized, molding four depleted regiments—it turned out that a regiment from a neighboring brigade had joined the attack after their brigade commander was slain and they were no longer receiving orders—into three combat-worthy ones again before the next Imperial attack arrived. This included appointing replacement commanders and shuffling battalions to try to even out regimental numbers.

‘Twas a task made doubly difficult by the challenge to my authority from 3rd brigade’s only other surviving regimental commander than myself. “On the authority of Brigadier General Bamboo Blade, Lieutenant Colonel. ‘Twas her final order to appoint me to her post before she passed.” I showed him the order signed shakily in the General’s muzzlewriting.

“Then methinks she was either insane or delirious from blood loss! I am the senior surviving commander, as you should already have been removed from your post!” He released steam from his nose with his snort.

I glared at him; under any other circumstances, ‘tis certain I would order his arrest for gross insubordination on the spot. But as things stood, I needed experienced regimental commanders, and he was one of the few remaining. “I suggest you mind your tongue, Lieutenant Colonel. I assure you she was quite lucid, telling me that I had earned the post with my military acumen. You may ask the officers around me if you don’t believe me.” I motioned to my inherited staff, many of whom nodded solemnly, even angrily at having the word of their former brigade commander questioned.

“For what military acumen?” Ignoring them, he got in my face. “Abandoning your post? Defying orders from division? Losing half your regiment needlessly? Crippling the city’s rearward defenses and forcing us to make a desperate dash for safety after you exposed our lines of communication?” he recited.

Methinks I barely restrained myself from striking him, hard. “Are you daft, Lieutenant Colonel? I saved our lines of communication! And I remind you again that I am now your superior! So hold your tongue or be relieved!” I didn’t want to, but he was making it very hard for me not to.

“And may I remind you that Major General Breech Lock herself ordered you relieved and arrested! So by her authority, step down, sir! I am taking command of 3rd brigade and placing you into custody!” He signaled his sentries to step forward, only to be met by an even stronger force of my own.

“Hold!” I shouted at my remaining headquarters staff, who methinks were in no mood for this after suffering the loss of half their number in the hilltop battle. To their credit, they had fought bravely and desperately against the heavily armored and well-trained Fortis Knights; replacing them with surviving soldiers from the ranks was a task that could take a day but had to be completed within minutes after the battle.

Methinks their bloodied appearances and glinty looks gave the newcomers some pause, as perchance did my own unrepentant glare. “I will not surrender command or submit myself to arrest, Lieutenant Colonel. Nor will I brook your insubordination! If you will not obey my orders, then I will replace you with somepony who will.”

“A duel, then!” he tried again. “I challenge you to single combat for command of the brigade!”

Methinks I nearly smacked my head with my hoof hard enough to crack bone. Of all the outdated traditions of the Equestrian Army, ‘twas certain to me that wartime dueling ‘twas the most idiotic of all. “‘Tis not the—”

“‘Tis exactly the time! For my soldiers will not follow you, sir! Not after your actions cost us the entire Corps!”

I turned and glared at him. “Very well, Lieutenant Colonel. The gryphons may strike again at any moment and overcome us thanks to your stubbornness and supreme stupidity, but as I require your regiment’s obedience, I will indulge you. The terms are very simple: If you win, you take command of the brigade and I submit myself to your arrest. But if I win, you accept my command and order your regiment to do the same. And since I am the challenged party, I remind you that I get to set the terms of combat.”

“I accept! And the terms of combat are?” he asked gleefully. “Do you wish to fight with axe, sword, or crossbow, sir?” He dripped scorn on the title.

Methinks I grinned evilly, intending to wipe that eager smile right off his face. “I choose incendiary gems at two paces. So tell me, how fast can you dodge a point-blank crystal attack, Lieutenant Colonel?”

His smile dropped and he paled mightily at my suggestion, which ‘twas a death sentence for us both. ‘Twould result in instant and quite agonizing incineration to have such a gem detonate anywhere near us, and with the pair of us starting so close, there was no chance for evasion. “Well? Do you accept these terms, Lieutenant Colonel? I await your answer.”

“Methinks you have no honor,” he replied weakly.

I rolled my eyes, hard. “And methinks my honor is irrelevant. Unlike you or the gryphons, I care not about such idiocy, only victory! Now do you accept or surrender?” I prompted again, then turned to my staff, who were all bearing equally evil grins; my new brigade communications officer, Captain Gray Rider, took it upon herself to charge two spare gems with a firestorm spell before she floated them up between us.

I accepted mine, which was glowing orange with barely contained flame; I then casually tossed it into the air a couple times before him, causing him to flinch. For were I to drop or fumble it, the consequences could be disastrous for everypony within six paces. “Your challenge was made before witnesses, Lieutenant Colonel, as was your acceptance of the terms of winning. Your choices are therefore simple: you may either fight the duel as directed, or you may forfeit it to keep your life and your command,” I reminded him again, letting him hear my contempt.

Though ‘twas certain he looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue along with his pride, he chose the latter. “I surrender.”

“So ‘twould seem you at least have some sense. Then by the agreed-on terms of the duel, get back to your regiment and obey orders! I want your battalions securing the crossroads with scouts sent out in all directions to provide early warning of approaching Imperials and to render assistance to retreating ponies. If any additional forces come from the Maresk pocket, help them reach the cover of Harness Hill! And be alert for possible gryphon combat drops into your trenches out of the sun. Now move!” I dismissed him, to which he left with an embarrassed flush and a parting glower.





If I may say, well-met indeed, General. Methinks you made your point superbly and deftly defused a challenge to your authority with your wits alone, which I would learn later was a necessity of a successful leader. Not only that, but you defeated and then co-opted a potential adversary without fighting, which has been said by the Sun Master himself to be the highest order of military skill.

But ‘tis not the only reason I comment now. I have received your invitation through my daughter for the surviving Bolt Knights and their families to spend Hearth’s Warming with your clan at your farm in Stalliongrad. ‘Tis an offer I wish to publicly accept on behalf of us both.


—Admiral Tailwind


Thank you for your kind words and your acceptance of my invitation, Admiral. I look forward to finally meeting you informally. I am truly sorry for the slow recovery of your wing, but perchance a change of pace and scene is what you need. Much like I have been surprised to discover was the case for me.

‘Tis worth noting I have offered the pen to Captain Firefly for some comment, but she has declined, saying she does not deserve to be heard from in this entry. Methinks she is still feeling the effects of having penned the unhappy events of the previous chapter, and not helping is that she also misses Gavian and Firehawk right now.

But at least she has her herdmates here to provide comfort, though I think she remains slightly annoyed with Stormrunner for so wholeheartedly agreeing that she was an idiot regarding the duel with Fell Flight. Nevertheless, she declines to contribute for now, wishing me to have the spotlight during a time in the story she feels herself completely unworthy of it.


—Rock Biter






Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
1055 hours

After Lieutenant Colonel Sand Dune’s departure, methinks I got in around three hours of additional reorganization and planning before another orderly approached at a full gallop, skidding to a stop before me. “Sir! An unfamiliar earth pony soldier has approached our picket line and is requesting to see you, saying he has urgent information about an impending gryphon attack. He’s quite agitated and covered in swamp muck. We’re holding him at the base of the hill.”

“Unfamiliar?” I said suspiciously, recalling that the Ravens were known to magically disguise themselves as ponies in order to get close to their targets. “Has he been—?”

“He is magically clean, Colonel,” a teleporting Errant Arrow answered as she appeared before me. She was my replacement operations officer, elevated from platoon leadership; I was told by her compatriots that she not only had a sharp mind, but was also a skilled caster who was deadly accurate with a bow despite her name. “I scanned him myself—no mind control gems or other spellwork detected. He says he’s seen where the Imperials are massing and knows where and when they will strike next,” she informed me.

Despite the newcomer being provably a pony, ‘twas certain that his claim only made me more suspicious given that such information sounded far too convenient—an attempt to lure us away from where the actual strike would fall or at least keep us looking in the wrong direction. ‘Twas a tactic even gryphon raider groups had been known to indulge in, using false claims of an attack to divert Corps and Army forces away from their intended target. And how would a single earth pony soldier have come across such intelligence in the first place?

Nevertheless, I ordered him brought to me under guard so I could interview him, once he’d been relieved of his weapons—which, oddly enough, included a longbow, which few earth ponies could wield.

Stripped of his arms but not the mud and swamp grasses caking his legs and torso, he recognized my rank and saluted me crisply, obeying orders to keep at least twelve paces away lest he detonate some hidden bomb on his body—we had reports that had been one means of assassination that mind-controlled drones in Canterlot had used to slay their targets.

I returned the salute perfunctorily. To my eyes, he looked like a fairly ordinary and nondescript earth pony, possessing a ruddy brown coat with fog-gray eyes. He wore not armor but an Equestrian Army day uniform, which suggested he’d been caught away from the front when the Empire attacked. 

That, or he was fleeing and trying to speed his journey by discarding his armor, which would weigh him down and slow his escape. “Where is your unit, soldier?” I asked him. “And why are you out of armor in a battle zone?”

He fidgeted slightly, which didn’t help my suspicious mood. “M-my apologies, sir. I was on leave in Coltucky when the war broke out and was trying to reach my border unit, only to learn ‘twas destroyed. This is as far as I could get.”

I stared at him for a moment before replying. “You traveled all the way here from Coltucky in five days in an attempt to reach your border unit?” I exchanged a disbelieving look with my aides.

He fidgeted again. “Well, I—”

“Well, nothing. Methinks it far more likely that you deserted that unit and discarded your armor, attempting to masquerade as a civilian whilst trying to slip unnoticed down the Harness Highway. Unable to do so, you perchance hoped you could make it through the Heron Marshes only to find them impassable. So now you come to me with some unlikely tale meant to save your own hide?” I suggested coldly; ‘tis worth noting that I had already received a few reports of deserting soldiers attempting to pass my sentries.

‘Tis also worth noting that I was more than willing to order their instant execution, even then. For cowardice was a contagion, and barbaric though the idea may be to modern ponies, ‘twas simply best to cut it off at the source.

“No!” he insisted with wide eyes; mayhap he knew what I was indirectly threatening him with. “Colonel, please! I have not the time to explain how I got here or how I know this, but I am Corporal Bramble Tracker, soldier of the 1st pathfinder battalion, which was attached to the 4th Division! Methinks you can have the Army look me up and confirm I was on leave in Coltucky if you wish, but ‘tis certain it has to wait! For the gryphons are about to strike again much further west! If you don’t act immediately, ‘tis certain your entire force will be cut off and killed along with the rest of the Equestrian Army at Maresk!”

I exchanged another look with my staff. ‘Twas certain I didn’t believe him—for how could he possibly know that?—but an Imperial insertion further west was also a threat I couldn’t ignore. Indeed, it appeared from recent Aerial Corps recon flights that the gryphons were shortly going to make an attempt to cut the Harness Highway from the south, as they’d been able to take the north shore of the Eerie marshes and were massing several fresh cohorts in the area.





But as the ground over that potential attack avenue was very open, consisting of flat grasslands with little cover, ‘twas certain that they could be easily spotted and repulsed; 1st brigade had already oriented their defenses in that direction and their commander had assured me that they were ready for such a move, with an entire reinforced regiment dug into a two-layered trench. She had further stationed her unicorns not just for air defense but to teleport entire squads where needed, meaning they could quickly shift forces to reinforce a threatened sector.

Nor could they strike West in an attempt to cut the Highway when it turned south through Frontier Forest; if they tried, we’d already salted the area with well-hidden dug-in platoons and they’d be butchered in the woods. “Speak,” I told him, my tone of voice telling him to make it good.

He took a moment to gather himself before doing so. “A large force of earth and sky gryphon Talons two millennia strong are crossing the Heron Marshes from the north at this very moment! They intend to launch a surprise attack out of the Marshes directly, cutting the road between Yoke and Melody to thus pocket your entire brigade as additional forces sweep in from the south. Methinks you face a second set of pincers, sir! You must slip the trap now, before ‘tis too late!”





Now I was certain he was lying, perchance trying to trick me into abandoning the defense of the Hill; even if he wasn’t a griffon, ‘twas possible he had been bribed or blackmailed or magically brainwashed into passing false information. “Cross the Heron Marshes? Impossible!” I scoffed, ready to order his arrest for such a ludicrous idea on the spot.

He stared at me in disbelief. “’Tis not impossible! I swear before the sun itself that they are traversing the seabed even as we speak!”

Though he didn’t deserve an explanation, he got one anyway. “If you’re going to make up a story, at least make it believable, Corporal! Their earth gryphons have not the range to overfly the swamps, and their sky gryphons alone aren’t able to hold any ground they may seize, let alone expel heavily entrenched Equestrian Army regiments from Melody or Yoke.” Myself and Brigadier General Florid Flower, commander of 1st Brigade who had originally been assigned to guard the Army’s lines of communication to Maresk, had already distributed our forces to protect the Harness Highway behind the Hill, including and especially Yoke and Melody.

‘Twasn’t any particular genius on our part to recognize their importance; we knew full well that the capture of those towns would instantly cut the Highway and leave us as trapped as the forces at Maresk. And as Yoke seemed the more likely target given ‘twas closer to the front and had already endured at least one swiftly repulsed airborne attack, we’d stationed a reinforced regiment there with additional battalions guarding the approaches.

Methinks a strike into open ground to seize some section of the Highway between the two towns was also possible, but that would leave an unsupported force of Talons out in the open vulnerable to Equestrian Army counterattack—unless, that was, the insertion force was large enough and consisted of a proper mixture of sky, earth and mage gryphons. But how could it be when the earth gryphons they needed for ground combat couldn’t fly the distance?

“But sir—” he tried again.

“Silence!” I cut him off hard. I knew not if he was acting under duress, but the possibility was all that prevented me from ordering his instant death as a deserter. “Sergeant? Remove this lying malingerer from my sight and place him under arrest,” I ordered one of my surviving headquarters sentries.

“No!” the newcomer shouted frantically. “You don’t understand, Colonel! They aren’t flying here; they’re marching! They’ve reached but five miles out and are nearly ready to leap the remaining distance! Once they do, you will be trapped and won’t be able to break through! They are the anvil preceding the hammer that will crush your force once and for all!”

“You claim that they’re attempting to traverse the Heron Marshes by ground?” Tempered Steel asked over my shoulder with a derisive air; I’d moved him up to command of the original Daisy regiment and given him a brevet rank of Lieutenant Colonel in an attempt to forestall any challenges from the officers he’d jumped over in taking his new post.

But he’d earned it, and his twenty years of experience and demonstrated ability to both obey orders and keep his head about him counted for far more in my eyes than attending the Equestrian Officer Academy. 

“If they’re that stupid, then ‘tis certain they’re as good as dead. For any high ground they found would be shifting and unstable, unable to support more than a few troops at once. And then there are the many marsh monsters, which are deadly to the unaware. Methinks if roving packs of Timberwolves, swamp serpents or large groups of rockadiles didn’t slay them, then the sinksands would snare them or the swamp gasses would quickly overcome them.”

But to my frustration, the newcomer had an answer for that as well. “None of those apply! Because their mages are simply freezing the ground in front of and around them to form a solid road, rendering it able to support their column and leaving them far less vulnerable to animal attack!” he explained quickly, eliciting some startled looks from my staff.

“They have already traversed nearly the entire distance across the dry seabed in this manner, Colonel! Methinks they started last night and now they have massed more than two millennia of soldiers but five miles from shore! They are nearly ready to strike into your rear!” he spoke more frantically, and to my great disconcertment, I did not get the impression he’d made that story up. His words were simply too fast, too fearful and desperate to be invented; nor did it at all sound rehearsed.

I stared at him, my confidence suddenly shaken. Even aside from his delivery, his story sounded disturbingly plausible. ‘Twould be a brilliant means of circumventing our defenses, allowing them to blindside us when most of our battle lines were oriented towards the south, leaving the north exposed. Worse, the gryphons knew full well by now that we couldn’t scout the not-so-dry seabeds by ground, and all the pegasi we had were concentrated over Harness Hill to assist the escape of additional soldiers and civilians from the Maresk pocket.

At least convinced he was not an assassin, I ignored the warnings of my sentries to walk up and go nose to nose with him, looking him in the eye. ‘Twas certainly possible he was telling the truth, but if so, that left one major question unanswered. “And you know this… how, Corporal? Did you suddenly sprout wings and fly over the marsh yourself?”

From the way he flinched, I might almost have thought that he did. “I am a Pathfinder, sir,” he began, referring to the Army’s special scout and raiding battalions, of which we had far too few; they were the closest thing the Equestrian Army had to elite units like the Black Lances. “I am trained for infiltration and reconnaissance, and despite now living in Coltucky, I grew up in this area—I know safe routes through the marshes even in the dark and thought I might use them to reach my unit at Maresk!

“‘Twas there I happened upon a column of gryphons slowly advancing through the swamps, freezing the ground ahead as they went! I then heard them talk of their plans, and thus I rushed to get here, risking those same swamp monsters—‘tis why I am so dirty! I swear before the—before Celestia herself that they said their strike would go in at midmorning, which is now!”

I stared at him again. He sounded like he’d caught himself from saying something he shouldn’t, and something about his manner all but screamed evasion to me. But he had scanned clean and to come up with such an oddly detailed story whilst going to such lengths to appear like he’d been wading through hip-deep mud…

I didn’t believe it. Methinks I didn’t want to believe it. But the more I thought about it, the more his warning rang dangerously true. For the expansive swamps of the not-so-dry seabeds had been our bulwarks. They had guarded our flanks to this point, preventing a deeper pincer attack that would pocket not just the two Equestrian Army divisions at Maresk, but also the two detached brigades along the Harness Highway who were struggling mightily to keep the line of retreat open. And if the gryphons had truly found a way to bypass them…





Then the hill we had fought so hard to wrest and defend had just become our doom, as we would shortly be every bit as trapped as the remaining units in Maresk.

My mind raced as I ordered him escorted away and placed under guard. If this Corporal was correct, then we had to act immediately, pulling our forces back before the attack was launched and the pincers closed. Our two weakened brigades didn’t have enough soldiers left to overcome half a legion landing in our rear between the towns of Melody and Yoke; if they seized that area in concert with the millennium-plus sized force massing to the south, then ‘twas certain our retreat route was permanently cut and we could be reduced at leisure.

But if he was lying, then we would be abandoning any further forces trying to escape Maresk, of which there was still at least a trickle. Two more battered companies and an improvised battalion had slipped the trap with heavy losses along the highway northeast of Harness Hill just in the past hour, though they were too torn up to be useful without a refit and a great deal of reorganization. We’d dispatched them and all depleted units to Melody for rest and reassignment after only the most rudimentary treatment of their wounded.

“Colonel. Orders?” Heavy Halberd prompted; I’d moved him up from regimental Operations Officer to XO of my new brigade and promoted him to Major following the death of Wheat Thresher. ‘Twas an enormous new assignment, but given how well he’d done tracking unit movement and planning smaller rescue operations along the Harness Highway, I judged he would do well in the post with a little more seasoning.

“I would suggest having some pegasi reconnoiter the marshes, but if he’s right, that may take too much time. Or worse, alert the gryphons and make them launch their attack instantly lest surprise be lost.” Methinks he’d at least learned his lesson regarding waiting too long to act after I rebuked him for it earlier, when he recommended delaying our attack on Harness Hill pending proper reconnaissance and planning. Or perchance ‘twas simply because I’d been proven right in doing so.

“Agreed. We either act on this intelligence immediately or ignore it as a ruse. But given the potential consequences, methinks we dare not ignore it.” I began to pace as I considered the question, trying hard to do what I’d failed at before by looking at things from the enemy perspective. If such an operation was planned, ‘twould be along a single narrow and probably zigzagging road they created as they picked their way through the marshes, supported by a score or more of mages who froze the ground as they went.

Though clever, such an operation would also be very time-consuming and risky. For if ‘twas spotted, I would simply have dispatched our now-reinforced pegasi contingent—two entire companies from the Aerial Corps 1st division had arrived during the morning, putting a full pegasus battalion at my disposal—to swoop in and rain explosive gems down on their column, which might well have the added and quite lethal effect of igniting the swamp gasses around them.

In that instance, their only options would then be to take to the air, where the earth gryphons would be far more vulnerable to the wingblades of Aerial Corps pegasi, or dive into the swamps which could be a death sentence given all the sinksand to say nothing of the many magical predators about.

Nor could they turn back without mages, as the ground would quickly thaw behind them in the late summer warmth. If they were caught out in the middle of the marsh, survival for the earth gryphons would be dubious at best, forcing them to cling to a few patches of high ground or trees that could support them as they tried to escape the deathtrap around them in stages.

But ‘twas all idle speculation at a moment when there was no time for it. Methinks I had to decide immediately what to do on little more than the say-so of a single earth pony soldier whose origins and alibi seemed shady at best.

In fairness, I’d already done it once before in planning an attack on Harness Hill, all on the basis of what information I could extract from a single traumatized civilian. But the stakes were far higher this time, and lacking any intelligence, methinks my next course of action came down to answering a very simple question:

Did I believe him, or not?





Allow me to pause briefly to make an announcement that, by strange coincidence, we have received an unexpected guest this final evening we are spending in the Harness Hill Inn. As we were eating supper, discussing this latest entry, he entered our private dining room unannounced, came to attention and saluted me, causing us all to stare. For ‘twas certain he looked exactly as he did then, as if he hadn’t aged a day.

“First Sergeant Bramble Tracker,” I greeted him as I returned his salute. “Or is that your real name?”

By now, we knew he was no pony, and as he understood that full well himself, he asked politely if he could join my journey as a fellow soldier who was with me most of the way. He further apologized for the deceptions he had to employ during that time, saying ‘twas necessary to protect himself and his kind.

“Then show me who you truly are,” I ordered him in my sternest General’s voice.

Taking a deep breath—methinks his next action went against every instinct he had—he dropped his equine disguise with a flare of emerald fire that briefly consumed him. It quickly faded to reveal his insectile body with green eyes and a dark carapace, eliciting some gasps from the wait staff serving us. 

“My real name is Lycovenato,” he told me. “And upon learning of your journey from the latest entries in this work, I asked My Queen for permission to visit you. To offer my respects to the General who led me, and the well-wishes of the entire Lepidoptes Hive.”

Well. What by the sun and moon was I to say to that? I’ve never met an undisguised Changeling before, of course, but as ‘twas certain that any Changeling could take the form of Bramble Tracker, I quizzed him. When had he first met me? Who was with me? What was wrong with his cover story? What role did he play in the battles of Melody and Detrot? And yet, he answered each question quickly and easily, ultimately satisfying me as to his identity.

‘Twas then I asked him the question methinks I’d waited thirty years to: “Very well, First Sergeant. So tell me—how did you really know what the gryphons were up to in the Heron Marshes?”

He smiled. “’Tis certain your guess about me sprouting wings was accurate, General—I was heading west, not east, on my way to Detrot, from where I was to start my new career as an Equestrian soldier after checking in with my hive’s existing agents there. Seeking to avoid both pony and gryphon troops until ‘twas time, I thought the dry seabeds would be bereft of soldiers from either side and mayhap allow for my safe passage.

“So, I simply transformed myself into an egret as I overflew the seabed.” He then did so with another flare of green flame as an example, causing us all to flinch to see a large white bird hovering before us but still speaking as he alighted on the table we ate at. 

“‘Twas there I spotted their advancing column slowly freezing a trail through the swamps. As I saw it and recognized the danger, I realized that if I was truly going to start helping Equestria, it had best begin then or an even larger portion of the pony Army would be pocketed. So I found you. Though methinks I did not give my cover story enough consideration,” he said with an arched eyeridge and wry grin despite his avian features, and this time, I sensed I was hearing the truth from him as he hopped off the table and transformed back.

“‘Twas certain to me at several points during your interrogation that you saw right through me. At least I remembered to cover myself with mud to make it look like I’d been trying to traverse the marshes on hoof.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Twas certain to me that he was who he said he was, so we invited him to sit down and drink with us as yet another old comrade in arms. He comes bearing his own new entry for this volume, and I also offered him the chance to write a brief passage for this one. But he declined, insisting that I continue with the telling of this tale alone and not linger on him.

Firefly briefly fretted that he needed love, to which he assured us that he had plenty to draw on, thanks to what his Queen had shared with him and their entire hive from Celestia. He further said that he would be honored to dine and drink with us, just grateful that he could finally appear before me—a ‘General he would follow to the gates of Tartarus’—as he truly was.

“And besides, ‘tis certain I found sufficient love to sustain myself, even in wartime. Methinks I can find it here, too, if needed,” he promised with a wink as a slightly nervous Mulled Mead—the niece of Sweet Switchel—poured him a mug of her honey-based namesake drink.


—Rock Biter






Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
1058 hours

Methinks of all the difficult decisions I ever made during the war against the Empire, the very first I was forced to make remains in some ways the hardest of all.

As she reads this, Captain Firefly reminds me that she often tells her tactical classes that they should try to force their opponents onto ‘the horns of a dilemma’—in other words, put them in a position where they have to choose between two equally dangerous options knowing each could lead to defeat, leading to abandonment of objectives or splitting their forces not knowing where the hammer blow will fall. I am told the origin of that saying is not from unicorns, but from the Ibexian Supremacy the Kingdom now faces and fights border wars with, borrowed by the gryphons and then imported into Equestria.

Regardless, ‘twas certain I was now faced with such a choice, where to guess wrong was to either doom my new brigade or abandon the remaining Equestrian Army forces in Maresk, which were still trying to break free of the Imperial trap. To this day, methinks I cannot say what ultimately swayed my decision except for a deep-seated unease that only grew the more I thought about what the strange stallion had told me.

I still suspected he was lying, even if I knew not how. ‘Twas not a single shred of evidence to support his claim, and the Imperial military was not generally known for trying unorthodox tactics—especially not the Talons. In fact, they tended to roundly discourage it, oft punishing deviations from doctrine. 

But then again, instead of striking at night as they normally did, had they not waited for day and then attacked out of the morning sun, catching us off-guard? ‘Twas certainly unusual and unorthodox, and who was to say their current commander was not under severe pressure to seal the pocket, having failed twice to take the hill whilst watching us maintain a lifeline within reach of Maresk?

Perchance in the end, what swayed me was that there was simply no other way to guarantee the survival of my force. For if he was right, then our position was now untenable and all the troops we had so painfully extracted were about to be pocketed again, this time with no chance of escape.

“Major Halberd! Call up General Florid Flower at 1st brigade and Lieutenant Colonel Peach Preserves in Yoke! Warn them that a large attack is imminent from the north and the gryphons will be attempting to form a blockade position between Yoke and Melody! And tell them we’re abandoning the defense of Harness Hill to make our way west! They must hold the path of retreat open until we reach them!”

“Abandon the hill?” He sounded shocked, mayhap unwilling to let go of it after the battles we’d fought and the heavy price we’d paid to hold it. But I didn’t stop to explain, simply switching to my direct dragonfire lines to my new regimental commanders.

“Brigade! This is Colonel Rock Biter! The gryphons are attempting to cut the Harness Highway west of Yoke with at least three thousand troops! If we stay, we will be pocketed, so by my order, abandon the Hill immediately! Form up into regimental columns and retreat west at the double-quick along the highway!” I shouted into my command gems.

“Aerial Corps! Guard us as we withdraw! Once we’re off the Hill, head for Yoke and assist 1st brigade in keeping the highway open! 3rd regiment! Form the rear guard at the base of the circle road and cover our retreat! 1st and 2nd regiments! Used phased movement south with teleporting unicorns covering the flanks from air attack! Time is short and speed is crucial! Now move!”

“Retreat after telling us to hold the hill at all hazards? By the sun itself, are you insane?” I heard the derisive voice of Lieutenant Colonel Sand Dune over all the startled acknowledgments that came back. “And you want me to cover the rear? Or cover for your own failed strategy?” he needled me further.

‘Twas certain, however, that I didn’t have time to deal with him. “You have your orders, Lieutenant Colonel! Now carry them out!” I shouted back as instructions were passed and troops spilled out of their trenches and structures to hurry into march formation, with flashes of teleporting unicorns everywhere. Our wounded were piled into borrowed civilian wagons whilst tired troops who’d only recently and just barely escaped the pocket struggled to their hooves to make yet another desperate dash to safety.

It took five minutes to get underway, and in that time I received word that a heavy gryphon attack was indeed being launched out of the Heron Marshes; even forewarned, Peach Preserves and Florid Flower were hard-pressed to hold it off. In fact, we gathered from frantic communications that they lost the road quickly but were trying to keep a narrow corridor open in the grasslands to the south between their two main defensive lines, which they had already ordered burned out to make sure a force of grounded earth gryphons couldn’t sneak up on them.





“Sir! Additional Imperials incoming!” Redtail Raptor warned as my headquarters was swiftly packed up into another cart and two younger earth pony mares were ordered to pull it. “We count at least six inbound centuries! They’re less than a minute out!”

“Archers stand ready! Keep them at bay!” I reiterated; ‘twasn’t a large enough force to take the hill if we were still on it, but ‘twas certainly large enough to keep us pinned there and unable to retreat before the Harness Highway was cut.

But we were already leaving as we ran down the south face of the hill and the gryphons didn’t immediately try to engage us as they saw us leave. Instead, seeing their chance, they dove for the top of the hill where my trailing wagons of wounded were attempting to escape. To her credit, Redtail Raptor ordered a slashing attack on them with her three understrength Aerial Corps companies, attempting to distract them long enough for our hospital train to make it away.

They didn’t entirely succeed, as the trailing carts were captured and those inside them butchered; seeing that and realizing that anypony who remained was lost, I ordered the grasslands and crops at the base of the hill torched to create a massive curtain of smoke, attempting to cover our withdrawal.

It seemed to work as the Talons did not immediately chase us, or perchance they were simply content with their prize and had to await additional orders when they weren’t able to obey their original ones to hold us in place.

Whatever their reasons, ‘twas the end of our hill defense as well as any chance of escape from Maresk; all soldiers or civilians still present at either location were now doomed. Methinks the last view I had of Harness Hill before ‘twas blocked by the smoke of the fires we’d set was of a full century of griffons securing the summit, raising the Imperial flag over Town Hall.





‘Tis far more to this action, obviously, but as most of it took place much further southwest along the highway, I regret I have no direct knowledge of it—at least, not until we reached the scene. And for that, I would once again prefer to actually be there before I relate the tale. 

As I conclude this chapter, I also conclude my stay in Harness Hill—at least for now. Much to my surprise, I am not only glad I came, but I have enjoyed my time here, finally able to visit it as a simple tourist instead of an Army commander struggling to hold or wrest a critical piece of land from a determined foe. From here, we will follow our retreat route west towards the city of Melody, and from there turn south to Detrot where we made what we feared would be our final stand.

Though I have told my old comrades repeatedly that they do not have to join me for this entire journey, all say to a soldier that they will, even the Changeling called Lycovenato. He has requested my permission to remain in pony form the rest of the way, however, as he simply does not like attracting attention to himself. Methinks ‘tis a survival instinct for his kind, as to reveal their true forms is to risk capture and exposure of not just themselves, but their entire hive.

Nevertheless, ‘tis certain I am touched that he would come out of hiding to meet me as he really is, for if I knew he was a changeling at the time, ‘tis certain I would never have believed him. He saved us that day, and as fate would later foretell, ‘twould not be for the only time. Indeed, his entire hive saved all Equestria more than once, from warning us of the impending invasion to later passing us the critical intelligence we needed to forestall attacks like this one.

By the time we reach Detrot and spend a week there to match the length of our wartime stay, ‘twill be nearly Hearth’s Warming. From there, we will return to my farm in Stalliongrad, and for the first time, my extended herd will host the holiday with ponies outside of our immediate clan. I can only imagine ‘twill yet again be a bittersweet experience for me, reminded of all the time I kept myself in seclusion. But as the presence of my old comrades and even a changeling soldier now remind me, ‘tis never too late to reach out and remember the bonds of old.

I will return the pen to Captain Firefly soon. She will publish the new entry from the former Bramble Tracker next, but methinks she is now quite anxious to return to happier tales from her side of the war, including the unlikely story of how the Lunar Council was ultimately won over and decided to ally with Equestria. To hear her tell the tale, ‘twas not by words or whips that their loyalty was gained, but by one of the greatest tools Harmony possesses:

The power of song.


—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer and Father
Amber Apple Orchards
Stalliongrad






The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom. 


—Sun Tzu