June 29th 1010, 12:27
Somewhere over Feathisia
A plane soared over the rolling fields and forests that surrounded the Imperial capital of Griffenheim. Normally this wasn’t anything too special, planes were becoming quite the trend in recent years. Yet, this plane was special. For starters, the seaplane had floats instead of landing gear, and it only got worse inside.
Pieter Best was a General of class. Now, he was no paper pusher, he had done his work in the field and you can always take the Griffon out of the Infantry, but never the Infantry out of the-
“Are you positive this thing is fit to fly?”
Moerman yelled from the cockpit. “WHAT?”
Oh. Right. They had to yell. Our genius pilot had classical music playing.
“ARE YOU POSITIVE THIS THING ISN’T GOING TO CRASH?!”
“YEAH, IT’S FINE!”
Pieter deadpanned to the windows. “ONE OF THE ENGINES IS SHAKING.”
“YEAH, IT DOES THAT! IT’LL FIX ITSELF”
Pieter shook his head. Well, at least he had wings just in case. Though the shaking of the left engine was the most dangerous of issues, it certainly was not the most disappointing. The plane, once a civilian airliner with forty-two seats, had only four seats towards the front remaining. The remainder of the plane had been converted into a sort of mobile home. A kitchen, a stove, a fridge, and blankets assembled on a sofa.
Leaning out of the cockpit of the converted passenger plane, the Major smiled. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY YOU CAN MAKE SELLING MANGOES?”
Pieter could barely hear over the plane’s speakers. “W-WHAT?”
“SELLING MANGOES. STALLIONGRAD, MANEHATTAN? MAKES A KILLING!” He said, returning to the controls with a maniacal laugh. Sure enough, Pieter glanced to the far back of the plane, noticing crates labeled ‘MANGO’. Some were even stacked under the couches.
“Do you live in this?”
“WHAT?”
“DO YOU- Ah, FORGET IT!”
---
June 29th 1010, 13:42
Griffenheim, The Griffonian Empire
Inside the Imperial Palace
The hallways of the Imperial Palace were needlessly complicated. Dobbelsteen Moerman knew a thing or two about navigating urban environments and governmental buildings in combat zones, but this was just plain ridiculous.
Red carpet hallways that went on and on into the horizon, garden after garden adorned with stained glass, elegant paintings of various historical figures every five feet posted upon the walls. Most notably of Grovers throughout the ages. None of the current ones, however. Not yet.
He followed close behind Pieter, as the two were escorted by four Diamond Dog Knights, the chosen protectors of the Imperial Palace and the Grover dynasty.
“You uh…know why I’m here?”
Pieter let out a laugh. “I don't even know where we're going. I bring you here, and then I return to my office across the street.”
Moerman looked at one of the guards. “How about you?”
He did not receive an answer.
Stopping before a pair of wooden doors with golden rings for door handles, two more guards stood their posts at either side of them. They froze for the moment, with the Major glancing between them all.
“Oh, that’s my cue,” Pieter said, turning to leave.
Moerman did a double take. “Wait, where are you headed?”
“Back to my office. This is your problem now. Good luck, son!” He said with a smile, turning to walk away into the maze of hallways of the Imperial Palace. At a corner, he confronted an Imperial Guard. “Hey, where’s the exit?”
Moerman however, remained. He watched as one of the six emotionless guards knocked twice upon the wooden door, standing for ten seconds. He then entered, closing the door behind him.
“...Well. How’s uh, guarding?”
The Guards looked to Moerman.
The blonde Griffon glanced up to the imposing guards. He gestured to them to lean down to his level, lowering his voice. “You guys get to raid the kitchen when no one's looking, right? Cakes, all that high Nobility stuff?”
Their smiles were their answer.
The doors opened, and the guard stepped back out. “His Majesty will see you now.”
Moerman nodded, stepping forward and through the door. “Thanks.” Moerman straightened his uniform for a second, before freezing two steps in. “Wai-MAJESTY?”
The doors shut behind him.
Documentation of Dobbelsteen Moerman, as well as all surviving records of his contributions throughout his career, vary in the words they use to describe his general demeanor and talent. He’d seen enough evaluation boards to know there were some… Well, a lot of General officers weren't on the best of terms with him. ‘To Tartarus with them’, he’d think to himself. ‘Desk officers have no power over a Commando’.
The Imperial Royal family, however, certainly did.
Before him was a room no more special than the average conference room within any minor castle. The table had about ten chairs, and the chandelier that hung from the ceiling casting its illumination upon the red and orange walls wasn’t as grandiose as the others he had seen in the hallways. The carpets were simplistic, and upon the walls laid only a map.
Yet the occupants certainly were special.
Black and gray feathers adorned the Griffon closest to Moerman, himself sat in the closest chair upon the left side of the table. His pipe rested in his beak as his claws held onto an open Manilla folder, a collection of others laid out on the table. His blue eyes looked up to the Major. The left one was notably scarred. Duke Gerlach IV of Feathisia.
Standing behind this Griffon was a lady, a Griffon with feathers of bright pink and eyes of a similar blue hue. She was hunched over, her head resting on the shoulder of the gray Griffon, her gaze also on the manilla folders as well. That was, until Moerman came in, quickly straightening up her posture as if no one saw. Duchess Gabriela Eagleclaw of Strawberry.
Yet most importantly, was a much smaller Griffon sitting on the opposite side of the table. The young chick had much brighter blonde feathers in comparison to Moermans, as he was doodling on a blank piece of paper before he too, looked up at Moerman. Emperor Grover VI of the Griffonian Empire. Soon to be, anyway.
Moerman held completely still, thanking the gods that had blessed all of Griffonkind for his sunglasses to hide his surprised eyes. His thoughts had kamikazed into the department of reason within his brain. Three of the most important Griffons in current history were sitting in a room before him. His words had to be chosen carefully. I mean, these were the leaders of the powerful, if recently reunified Griffonian Empire. The most prestigious nation in the history of Griffonia.
He looked at Gerlach. “...You got fat.”
The Griffon stared at him, his one functioning eye as ice cold as the black void of his subordinate’s sunglasses. His beak remained locked on his pipe. He then glanced Dobbelsteen up and down and raised his eyebrow.
Both Griffons erupted into maniacal laughter, Gerlach rising from his seat to shake claws with Dobbelsteen. “Glad you could join us, Major.”
“Whatever you require, sir.” Moerman turned from the clawshake with a smile, rendering a bow to Gabriela. “Your grace.”
The Duchess, though half unamused at the exchange between the Major and her husband, still managed a genuine smile with a slight bow in return. However, her eyes drifted to the young Griffon at the other end of the table, who simply remained sitting, beak agape and eyes shining like stars.
Moerman himself had turned, immediately kneeling in front of the Emperor and bowing his head. “Your Majesty.” He quickly returned to a standing position of attention in front of him. Even though the young Griffon could not have been older than eight, he was the heir to the Empire after all.
“May I ask you a question, Mister?” Grover said, briefly glancing at Gabriela after saying it. She returned a small thumbs up.
Moerman blinked, looking down. “Oh, of… of course.”
“How many badgiffs have you killed?”
“GROVER!”
Gabriela hissed to scold Grover, yet was entirely cut off by her husband. To his credit, he had immediately turned away to try and hide his usual stoic expression from cracking, but he was not successful. He turned back, wiping his eye. “That’s uh…” He met the stern look of Gabriela. “...oh come on, that's funny.”
Gabriela rolled her eyes, turning back to her nephew. “Never ask a question like that again, do you understand?”
“Sorry…” Grover lowered his head.
“It’s alright, your majesty.” Moerman gave a nod. “You didn’t know. But your Aunt is right. Some soldiers don't like answering those kinds of questions. No big deal.” He gestured to himself. “I still listen to my family whenever they tell me to do something.”
“Really?”
Moerman nodded, “Well of course.” His claw took hold of one of the free chairs at the end of the table, giving a glance to the other two adults in the room. “You should listen to these two. They’ve done things you read about in old Knight books.”
Grover looked over to his two caretakers. “Woah… you guys are Knights?”
The Duchess began to shake her head before Gerlach spoke. “Shhh.” He said, with a nod to her. “Your Auntie’s undercover.”
Gabriela swiftly turned her head, before being met with the starstruck gaze of Grover. “That’s so cool!” She blinked, getting a smile on her face. She herself made the ‘Shh’ gesture to Grover, before looking at Moerman.
The major shot claw-guns back.
“Well, sir…” Moerman began, “And, Madam. What is it you wish to discuss with me?”
“Take a seat, Moerman,” Gerlach said, sliding a Manilla folder over to the Griffon with a sigh. “This is going to be a long one and we need to get through it fast.” He put the pipe back into his beak. “We’re asking you to volunteer-”
“Fantastic, sir, sign me up.”
“Moerman.” He said, lighting a small match and beginning to smoke his pipe. “...Read the folder.”
The Duke looked Moerman in the eyes, “Just know. I am not ordering you to take this. You are not under any expectation to do so. This lies entirely within your personal choice.”
Dobbelsteen obeyed, picking up the folder and opening to a singular page. A telegraph, printed upon paper and dated last night. He began to read the letter, with Gerlach shuffling around papers upon the table as he did so.
JUNE 28TH, 1010, 9:43 PM
TO: GRAND DUKE GERLACH IV & DUCHESS GABRIELA EAGLECLAW
My name is Twilight Sparkle. I am communicating to you not as the Princess of Friendship, nor as a ruler of any country, only on behalf of the nation of Equestria. My home. I am in need of your help.
Equestria was a peaceful nation. Chrysalis, Queen of the Changeling Hives, already having attempted to overthrow our Princesses by subterfuge five years ago, has amassed the largest army on the continent and overran our borders for reasons unknown to us.
She has engaged in terrible acts of brutality against the ponies and other creatures of Equestria. She has vowed the destruction of our very way of life and the dismantling of Friendship which we all hold dear.
All attempts at diplomacy with Queen Chrysalis have failed. She is interested in nothing more than the total destruction and conquest of Equestria.
Our nation, our ponies, knew nothing about warfare and what it entailed. We despised it, shunned it, kept it as far away as possible, and swore that we would never engage in such a horrible thing. Yet, it has arrived. Ponies I have known to be shopkeepers, schoolteachers, Apple Farmers, and cake makers, have all enlisted to stop Chrysalis. Yet she unleashes upon us terrible weapons of combat we’ve never seen in our deepest nightmares, covers our skies with aircraft raining bombs upon our countryside, and outsmarts us at every turn.
We have no creature else to turn to.
I have studied in great detail all available history to me about the Griffonian Empire. Its founding, its rise, its collapse, and watched with my own eyes the reunification it has undergone through the leadership of both of you. The peaceful reunification. With kindness, improvement, and harmony. The Empire no longer stands as a terror, as it had centuries ago. It now stands firm on the continent, unifying the war-torn regions into peace and prosperity. From the Riverland Coalition to the Aquelian Republic, you have mended past rivalries and prevented countless wars. I wish we could have done the same.
There is another legend in your nation. One I wish to ask if they were to consider. A legend of Commandos led by one Griffon.
When the National Republic invaded the Kingdom of Vedina, the peaceful tribes of the North and the Skyfall Republic, the Commandos were the first over the border to defend them.
When bandits and robber barons had besieged the city of Griffonstone to plunder its treasures, they dropped from the skies and drove off the Invaders. They then engaged in months of mountain warfare, hunting the bandits until all of southern Griffonia’s trade routes were safe to travel, crushing, in two months, a bandit state which harassed nations for years.
When the rogue border state of Hellquill launched a campaign of extermination upon the ponies of the Riverlands, they stormed the city in defense of ponies they had not known. They had sailed upon the wide rivers straight into the capital city of the most terrifying nation on the continent with a force consisting entirely of volunteers.
Equestria has always been a peaceful nation. Yet, peace was stolen from us so quickly, breaking a thousand-year period of harmony and joy. Bread bakers, tailors, construction ponies. All were ripped away from their dreams and hopes for a brighter future, all replaced with the war. Fillies and Foals have now begun to conduct duck and cover drills in order to save themselves from enemy bombs that may fly over their towns and homes.
On behalf of Equestria, I request- nay, I plead with you. Please bring this message to the leader of the Commandos. We wish for his help. Although our nation has mobilized day by day, and our finest minds are engaging Queen Chrysalis with cunning and bravery, we still need more if we want to stand a chance. We wish to consult a professional.
With gratitude,
Princess Twilight Sparkle.
Moerman held the letter in his claws. His eyes looked to Grover behind his sunglasses, who doodled away on a blank paper, entirely oblivious to the conversation.
“...We’ve committed to diplomacy of strict neutrality in all cases leading up to this moment. In the interest of maintaining our reputation as mediators, hoping to prevent wars and disputes between nations on this continent.” Gerlach said, opening another folder and setting down a few photographs. “Yet… Chrysalis has assembled the largest army perhaps in the history of this planet.”
As Dobbelsteen looked at each of the photographs, Gabriela now spoke. “Tanks and mechanized vehicles upwards of fifty kilometers an hour, dispensing firepower at record speeds.” She slid a pile of folders on the table closer to him. “These came with the letter. Reports from the front.”
The Major noted the ‘CLASSIFIED’ stamp upon most of them. His gaze set on a photograph of a metal machine, towering over the tanks he had encountered in combat before no doubt, as Gabriela continued. “Airplanes numbering in the thousands dropping bombs on towns, not to mention the swarms.”
“Swarms?”
“Changelings are an insectoid species, in part.” Gerlach held out a photograph that depicted hundreds of black dots in the skies, rising over smoke and fire that scattered across a field. “Speed. The Equestrians are hit a thousand times before they can even blink.”
The blonde-feathered Griffon adjusted his brown Feathisian uniform for a moment, leaning back in his chair and staring at the photo from behind his sunglasses. Try as Moerman might, his eyes kept trailing back to the letter.
Something about that letter just… unnerved him. Stirred a fire within him. Moerman’s beak, usually home to an ever-present smile, had grown tight. His disposition, though always in carefree and welcoming expression, had grown broad and imposing. Most of all his voice had grown cracked and bitter. “Sir, please inform Twilight Sparkle that the Commandos are on their way to Canterlot.”
Gerlach sighed, holding up a claw. “The constitution of the Griffonian Empire states that no lethal military assistance can be provided to another sovereign nation without the permission of Parliament. I cannot deploy you.”
“Didn’t you two write the constitution?”
Gabriela held out her claws to gesture to Moerman’s response. “Excellent point, wouldn’t you agree?” She said, raising an eyebrow at her husband.
“We break one rule, all the others lose their legitimacy. I would never compromise the stability of the future for anything.” He said, giving a quick glance to Grover, who still had his head down, doodling. “But… there is a caveat.”
The dark feathered Griffon leaned on the table. “If we were to send you, as an ‘Official diplomatic ambassador to Equestria’...That would not count as lethal military assistance. Seeing as you are not lethal.”
Moerman raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses.
“Legally speaking.”
Dobbelsteen ran a claw through his feathers, pondering the situation over in his head. “So…” He sighed, taking off his sunglasses. “I would go it alone over there and link up with their Generals, teach them a few things, and stay with them until the war ended.” He cleared his throat. “Who will look after the Commandos?”
Gabriela now spoke. “Your second in command, Frank Lancaster, would be given command in lieu of your absence.” She nodded. “The Commandos would be maintained here to continue to serve the Empire.”
“Hm.” Dobbelsteen Moerman looked at the situation before him. He was being asked by the most pacifistic nation on this planet, who specialized, in their own words, ‘The Magic of Friendship’. Hoping that he could teach them to fight their way against the most powerful army in recorded history. With minimal technology and experience.
“Well, sir.” The Major stated frankly. “If the Feathisian Commandos cannot come with me, I will train the soldiers of Equestria in the science of warfare and turn them into soldiers fit to send that tyrant to Tartarus.”
Both Gerlach and Gabriela, smiles upon their faces, rose from their seats, and so too did Dobbelsteen Moerman. Grover scribbled harder on his paper.
“Thank you, Major,” Gabriela said, shaking his claw. “This country has asked a lot from you over the years. Your service is admirable. However, you must keep this in mind.” She dipped her head. “You must conduct yourself with the utmost secrecy. If the world learned of us getting involved… it would be quite difficult to explain.”
“Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Ma’am.” Moerman shook the claws of Gerlach as well before he felt a tug at his uniform. The Feathisian Officer turned to see Grover VI, holding out a piece of paper. Taking it, Moerman looked at a crude depiction of what he assumed to be himself shooting guns at ‘Evil bad bugs’, (conveniently labeled), on a field.
Moerman mouthed to the Emperor, as he folded it into his uniform. I killed a lot.
The small Griffon giggled, before sitting back in his chair.
“We could schedule a flight leaving from Griffenheim’s airport, but it's currently undergoing a massive expansion, so things might be a bit delayed,” Gerlach said. “We might be able to get you some priority.”
Moerman smirked. “I appreciate the offer, sir. But do not worry. I got my own plane.”