//------------------------------// // Boreas' Most Annoying Soldier // Story: The Adventures of Dobbelsteen Moerman // by TheDiceMan0407 //------------------------------// June 29th 1010, 07:15 Aiwle, Feathisia Although strictly providing breakfast, lunch, and dinner between the hours of seven in the morning and ten at night, the ‘Harbor Diner’ may as well have been mobilized to produce munitions and firearms for a coming war.  “Who's the ruler of the Griffonian Empire?” called a voice from the kitchen. “Grover the…Sixth!” One Griffon chick, feathers as blue as the midday clear sky, said as her wings hovered over the tables of the diner inside, setting down four glasses of water per booth. “But his Aunt and Uncle run it because he’s too young.” She turned to the kitchen door. “Do you really think they were telling the truth?” “I sure hope so!” answered another Griffon, coming through the door that led to the kitchen with plates of apple slices, grapes, toast, and other assorted food. No less than four plates had been balanced upon her claws. “Your father and I heard all about these soldiers, and what we heard is worth the preparation!” “Your mother is right, Caroline!” called a voice from the open doors, back into the kitchen. “Even when she isn’t!” The young blue Griffon nearly dropped the glasses of water in her claws laughing, as her mother, a Griffon whose feathers adorned a similar blue color to them, pivoted back to the door. “We’ll continue your study review after breakfast.”  She opened the door. “What was that, Brian?” “Another four plates of waffles are ready!” “That’s not what you said.” “That is what I said, it's what I just said.” “What’d you say before?” “I didn’t say anything before!” Caroline Harbor looked at her work, mumbling with excitement. “Forty-eight booths in total, multiplying that by four would equal one hundred and ninety-two, plus twenty seats at the counter. Two hundred and twelve glasses of water were all laid out in front of the seats. In conjunction, of course, with napkins wrapped around one knife, one fork, and one spoon, amounting to six hundred and thirty-six pieces of silverware for each of the-” She looked up, her thought process interrupted. Her ears twitched. Caroline had already tuned out the noises of the kitchen and the gentle music playing over the radio on the counter, allowing her mind to totally focus on the counting in her head. Yet, something was new. A new sound. She flew over to the window, squinting through the beams of the rising sun, as the shadow of one Griffon appeared. Then, one Griffon turned to seven when adding the six appearing behind him, and then thirteen when you added the row behind that, and then nineteen when you- Oh, Caroline LOVED to count! “Mom, Dad! The Soldiers are here!” A new sound registered in Caroline’s ears, one that almost certainly was the shattering of a plate, and then the voices of her parents in unison. “ALREADY?!” Yet, that was not Caroline’s problem. She rushed across the freshly mopped and shining floors to the front door, opening it to hear them. The soldiers were sounding off in unison, repeating the words of the Griffon in front of them. “They say that in the Army, the coffee's mighty fine!” “They say that in the Army, the Coffee's mighty fine!” “It looks like muddy water, it tastes like Turpentine!” “It looks like muddy water, it tastes like turpentine!” As the singing traveled up the dirt road and fell Caroline’s ears, she giggled to herself, but then slowly began to stop. She narrowed her eyes, and began to count… a lot of soldiers within the formation. Ponies, Griffons, Diamond Dogs…was that a Thestral? She could hardly tell with the sheer size of the bags upon their backs. “They say that in the Army, the training’s mighty fine!” “They say that in the Army, the training’s mighty fine!” “Last night there were ten of us, now there’s only nine!” “Last night there were ten of us, now there’s only nine!” As the soldiers grew closer, she began to make out their features past the beams of the rising sun. Their faces had smeared camouflage paint upon them, weapons were strapped to their sides, and their uniforms had all sorts of equipment strapped to it. Stars appeared in Caroline’s eyes. “...Woah.” -- “Major Dobbelsteen Moerman.”  The staff car shook with the uneven terrain of the dirt roads below its tires, with the two Griffons in the back seats both instinctively reaching out for stabilization. A curious glance to the rearview mirror by one of them, brown in feathers and green in eyes, prompted the Driver to slow down. This brown Griffon took a claw to straighten his military uniform, wrinkled from the sudden shake, before looking back over to his fellow passenger. In her claws, the Griffon looked over a folder with a dozen or so pieces of paper. “Do you know him, Mister Best, sir?” Pieter Best nodded, leaning back into the leather seats of the car and glancing out the window. “EveryGriffon whose someGriffon knows who Dobbelsteen Moerman is, more or less. He certainly has a knack for always being there for the reporters.” “Not a fan?” The other Griffon asked herself dressed rather formally. Pieter held up a claw, shaking his head. “Oh, don’t be mistaken, Martha. Out of all the officers within the Empire-” He turned over with a sigh, “And believe me, there’s sadly a lot, Mister Moerman is one of the few that lives up to his stories. None contradict his exploits and achievements, even the multitude that despise him.” She looked up from the folder again. “Despise him?” Pieter Best let out a small laugh. “Mister Moerman does not get along well with Griffenheim’s more…privileged individuals.” He said, before gesturing out towards the window. “Why do you think we’re all the way out in Aiwle to go meet him?” “Would he even want to come with us?” Pieter turned, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Martha set the folder down and scratched her red feathers for a moment. “If he managed to upset those in Griffenheim, they must have retaliated by sending him over here.” She shrugged. “I think I'd feel a certain kind of way about that. I wouldn’t want to head back there.” Pieter Best leaned up, “Apologies, I misspoke. Moerman was not forced out of Griffenheim, no lowly nobles, officers, or third-rate members of Parliament could have convinced anyone to send him away. It was mostly a convenient excuse for him.” He gestured to the folder. “There are only two places Moerman feels at home. Out in periphery towns, or in conflict zones.” “Hm.” Martha leaned back into the seats, resting her head on her claw for a moment. “So why would they recall him back to Griffenheim?” She asked. “More notably, why send us to go fetch him so quickly?” “You could ask him if you want.” Pieter Best picked up his Officer’s cap and rested it on his beak to cover his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.” “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes, sir.” “Plenty of time, goodnight.” --- Caroline hadn’t seen soldiers many times in her young life, however, even she knew that the soldiers who had visited her family’s diner were no ordinary soldiers. They had barely communicated with each other. Two hundred Griffons, ponies, creatures of all kinds wore the same uniform, adorning the same flag of Feathisia on their shoulders that her father had raised on the flagpole in their house’s front yard.  They had grounded their vests, their huge backpacks, and even their weapons in front of the restaurant in lines, soldiers moving to predetermined spots with nothing more than nods to the others surrounding them. Their gear had been formed in boxes, with one soldier going through and taking five steps between each box. Not even Caroline’s mother was this focused on symmetry, and her dad said she had eighty HDs. Whatever that meant. They fanned out as one Griffon, standing in front of all the boxes, pointed at them and then inside. The soldiers fell out by their rows and into the diner, however stopping at the front door to stomp off the boots laced around their claws and hooves. That was nice of them. Whenever Caroline was not going around the diner carrying plates to the booths or refilling glasses of water, she would steal glances at the soldiers outside. “Feel bad that we’re eating and the rest of them are doing pushups.” She heard one soldier, a Griffon, say.  A pony next to him looked over. “Don't you remember he made us run up the hill to make sure it was ‘safe’?” She then raised an eyebrow as she took another bite of some hash browns. “So that our food would be ‘Earned’?” “Feels good to earn this food, just like they’re earning it now.” Another Griffon from the booth next to theirs turned around in their seat, their back against the windows of the diner. “Plus, he ran up that hill with us. Then he’s doing push-ups with them. See him complaining?” “I’m not complaining! Sure wasn’t the one complaining on the run. mY ClAwS hUrT”  “That’s not me.” The pony set down their glass of water, laughing. “Let's hurry up so we can free up our booths for ‘em.”  So they did. Although Caroline had to help out her parents with carrying plates to the soldiers and refilling their glasses of water, always receiving a chorus of four thank yous from each booth, she kept her eyes on the soldiers. They sat down, they ate, they wiped the tables cleaner than she had before, stacked their plates, and left. It was less a group coming out to eat and more a systematic process, a well-oiled machine going to work.  Forty-five minutes. Two hundred and forty-four soldiers came in groups, ate, and left. Caroline could hardly believe her luck. Maybe her parents would close the shop early and she could get back to studying in her treehouse. Yet, the doors to the diner opened once more.  The Griffon from the front of the formation had stepped inside. Caroline watched from behind the counter as he turned to look at the tables. He bent down a little to be eye level with one, scrutinizing what appeared to Caroline as a clean table.  “What’s your name?” She asked him, suddenly. The Griffon leaned back up, immediately turning to Caroline. Now, Caroline was never really the biggest creature in the schoolhouse playground. But it didn’t take Twinkle Sprinkle’s Abridged Guide to the World, of which she owned two copies, to see that this was a really big Griffon. That was rapidly starting to unnerve Caroline, who had immediately taken steps back away. The two stared at each other for a moment. “Well Miss,” The Griffon said, breaking out into a smile. “I’m Dobbelsteen Moerman.” The blonde feathered Griffon had pushed his sunglasses up. “What's your name?” She smiled, “Caroline.” The young Griffon turned to the tables. “What are you doing?” Moerman had reached into his uniform, digging around for something. “My father told me that there are three types of creatures in this world you ought to never disrespect.” He raised his free claw to count them off. “Those who give you food, those who clean the streets, and those whose job it is to save your life.” He pulled out an envelope, holding it out to Caroline. “Give this to your parents. Both of them and you gave us food. So, the least my soldiers can do is clean up after themselves.” He looked back. “You should always leave a place better than you found it.” He blinked. “Well-... not to say-” “Thank you, Mister!” Caroline held the envelope, though kept looking up at the soldier.  He looked back. She blinked. He blinked. “...Is there some-” “What are you?” Caroline asked. He glanced down at his uniform. “I’m a soldier.” “What do you do?” “Ki- uh… Protect towns like yours.” “Like a police officer?” “...Depending on who you ask.” The doors to the kitchen swung open and out came both of Caroline’s parents. “Oh, honey!” cried her mother, stepping over to her side. “Leave the poor Griffon alone, you’ll drive him crazy!” Caroline scoffed. “I was not driving anygriff crazy!” She quickly gave the envelope to her mother and turned right back to Dobbelsteen. “How do I become a soldier?” Moerman glanced at both of the parents, who began to open the envelope. He looked back to Caroline and smiled. “How old are you, kid?” She beamed. “Thirteen!” The soldier raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses, tapping his claw on the floor for a moment. “...Mirror what I do.” The large Griffon then knelt down, holding his two front claws on the floor and two rear paws close together. Caroline obliged, though was slightly shaking at the exercise before even starting. She was never the strongest Griffon. “Have you ever done a push-up before?” Moerman asked. “...Once.” Caroline sighed. “I’m not really good at it. I only did one in the playground before I landed on my beak.” Moerman nodded, before lowering himself and quickly raising himself up again. Eager to keep up, Caroline went with him.  Both of Caroline’s parents opened the envelope, squinting at the paper. “This document…” Her father began to read to himself, “...Serves as a legal check for…2500 BITS?!” They both looked up and then looked to the roof, before falling backwards, landing on their backs. “What was that?” Down. “Your parents fainted.” Up. “Is that bad?” Down. “Fainting is a sign of elegance and material wealth.” Up. Caroline stopped at the up, her arms shaking like a leaf in the winds of autumn, before planting right onto the floor in exasperation. “..Ow.” Moerman smiled, before standing himself upright again and picking Caroline up to stand again. “Good, you didn’t break your beak. Had that happened once, not fun.” “Yeah…” Caroline lowered her gaze. “You guys do like… forty though.” Moerman glanced at the bewildered and significantly wealthier-than-they-were-yesterday Griffons fainted upon the floor, and then back to the young Chick standing in front of him. “The last time I checked, Miss Caroline? Four is greater than one.” Her eyes slowly widened with the realization, looking down at herself and then back up at the soldier. “W-Four?! I did FOUR!?” She smiled, jumping into the air and hovering with her wings. “I don't think half of the creatures in my class can do four pushups!" The Major nodded, “See how that works?” He turned away. “Though I must get going, I and my soldiers are sure to be back. Tell your parents that the Commandotroops of Feathisia thank them for their hospitality, and we are sure to be back whenever we’re in town again.” She waved as he neared the door, “Wait, Mister!” He hovered in the air. “How do I become a soldier like you?” Moerman smiled, adjusting the collar of his floral shirt that peeked out and over his military uniform. “Do those push-ups every day for the next five years, then come find me.” As Dobbelsteen Moerman exited her family’s diner with a nod, Caroline smiled to herself. “FOUR pushups!” She shouted, “Tomorrow I’ll get five, and then the day after that I’ll do six, and then seven…Mom, Dad, I wanna be a soldier when I grow up! Mom?” --- The soldiers in the front of the diner had assembled of their own accord. Most of them sat upon their backpacks laid on the ground. A few stood behind their backpacks, talking and laughing with the others around them. Yet as Moerman pushed open the front door to the diner, they all immediately scrambled to their feet. “Woah woah woah!” He said, “As you were, as you were.” He smiled before pulling out a pocket watch. “The train doesn’t leave for another hour. I appreciate the discipline, but relax.” The soldiers gravitated back down to their bags with a sigh of relief. Putting away his pocket watch, the young Major ran his claws through his blonde feathers for a moment, before his eyes set on a small cloud of dust kicked up down the dirt road. He took off his sunglasses, his blue eyes squinting to see. “Who do you think that is, sir?” asked Lieutenant Lotte. The all-black vehicle was adorned with two small flags of the Griffonian Empire on its front, its black paint job contrasting the earthy green textures of the forests around the outskirts of the small town of Aiwle. “Oh no.” Moerman quickly put his sunglasses back on, immediately pivoting to his soldiers. “UP, UP, UP RIGHT NOW!” He said, pointing his claw down the road. “That’s an Imperial staff vehicle! My BOSS!” Not even the most loyal of Changeling Hives acted so swiftly and with such single purpose, as the soldiers had practically jumped into the air from their bags and into the position of attention. Dobbelsteen Moerman himself straightened his uniform and hair. “What’d you do now, sir?” joked one soldier in the formation, to the hushed laughter of the soldiers. As ill-timed and hectic as the formation was, it earned a smirk from Moerman.  The vehicle rolled to a stop on the gravel road in front of the diner, right behind the formation of soldiers. As the engine wound down, the driver of the vehicle, a Diamond Dog, exited to open the passenger doors. From these doors stepped out one Griffon, brown in feathers and facial features almost permanently scrunched, he stepped around the formation, locking eyes with Moerman. Another Griffon followed close behind. Moerman immediately straightened upon seeing the General. As his claw raised to salute him, so too did the hooves, claws, and paws of more than two hundred soldiers in formation. Pieter gave a quick glance to the soldiers, returning a salute so that they could rest at ease. “There’s only two hundred of you?” “Sir, the majority of the Commandos are in garrison in Rottendedam.” Moerman reported, his usual upbeat and carefree tone of voice tempered with military professionalism. Well, as professional as one could get with an undershirt that had palm trees on it. “I take the companies out in pairs on Field exercises.” Martha turned from looking at the formation. “Do you… usually go on field exercises with your soldiers?” “Naturally.” Pieter Best had a small smile on his face at that, gesturing to the formed-up soldiers. “Is your train ride still on schedule?”  Moerman nodded. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they will have to continue on without you.” He nodded to Martha. “Captain Martha will escort them to the station and return them to garrison. You’re going to have to come with me, Major.” A few soldiers in the formation turned their heads, before quickly returning themselves before the General noticed. Dobbelsteen Moerman’s beak hung open for a moment, casting a quick glance to his soldiers and then back. “May I ask why, sir?” Pieter Best looked to the Major. His brown eyes then looked to the Imperial flags, the colors of a Yellow background, orange borders, and a Griffon in its center. “Above my pay grade. We got a long drive ahead of us.” “I have a plane nearby if you’d prefer.” The General stopped, giving a glance around. “...Where?”