The sounds of a busy castle parade ground drifted through the morning air as the sun began to rise over the eastern horizon. The long, golden rays of light slanted into Castle Grey’s courtyard, illuminating its semicircular wall and the parade ground that extended in front of the buildings that had been built into the side of the mountain. Armories, barracks, meal halls and larders had all been built deep into the ancient rock, leaving only their facades sticking out of the mountainside. One of the visible windows that had been carved out of the stone belonged to Shining Armor’s room, the snow-white unicorn sleeping soundly on the bed that he had collapsed onto, face-flat, in the wee hours of the morning.
The sun began shining through the window, one small beam of light creeping across the floor until it finally reached Shining Armor’s eye. The unicorn groaned and rolled over, his horn flashing briefly to pull the covers over his head. The flash came again as he threw the covers off of himself, rolling out of bed and rubbing his face. Looking around, he sleepily thought of how his bedroom was missing two things: everything that he owned, and the sleeping form of pink perfection that was his wife. Immediately after thinking that he shook his head vigorously, jogging his memory to a more recent state. That’s right, he thought. Canterlot. Castle Grey. Shining Armor yawned as he walked over to the window, looking out over the parade ground. Most of them wore the burnished gold armor of the regular Royal Guard, though a number of other ponies merely wore tunics or went casual. Shining Armor assumed that these ponies were the castle’s staff, responsible for the fortress’s upkeep and the supply of the soldiers.
Other ponies in the yard wore scale armor, made of boiled leather. Though they drilled with the regular guards they were sloppier and didn’t look as professional. They were a multitude of colors and sizes, much more irregular than the virtually identical Royal Guard ponies. Shining Armor knew their kind; they were Equestria’s Provincial Militia, ponies drawn from the local populations to supplement the Royal Guard garrisons in the region. Provided with lower-quality arms and armor, they were only called up in times of crisis, such as when a threat to Equestria made its way over the Crystal Mountains from the Frozen North.
Shining Armor rubbed his eyes again as he turned away from the window, heading over to the bathroom. As the handle turned, water began to pour out of the faucet. Shining unceremoniously dunked his head in, letting the cold revive him as he shook his head, water spraying from his tri-toned blue mane as he breathed in deeply and let it out. Letting the residual water drip from his mane, Shining exited his room and began walking through the castle’s corridors, heading down to the mess hall. He had only ever been to Castle Grey once, to inspect it following the attempted Changeling invasion. Every member of the garrison had been required to submit to a screening to make sure that no Changeling drones had remained in any Royal Guard locations.
Even so, he still remembered the layout fairly well and managed to get to the castle’s mess hall in no time. The air inside it was filled with chatter. Most of the ponies inside wore the ebony-colored off duty tunics of the Archive Guard. Servers pushed carts along the many long tables stretched around the room, doling out servings of hay fries, spiced oats, oatmeal, and hay for the patrons.
“Good morning, Shining,” Arcane said as Shining sat down next to him, giving another yawn. The Mage-Captain was poring over a number of pieces of parchment, some of them covered in numbers, others showing maps of the northern part of Equestria.
“Morning, Arcane,” he said groggily. He yawned again before looking at the gray unicorn and the papers he was reading. “What have we got?”
“Strong Swing gave me these; it’s mostly force deployment and strength around the area. Lieutenant Cloud Skipper also took a flight of militia pegasi out earlier today; they saw two griffin air flotillas, one heading for Vanhoover and another for Tall Tale.”
“The griffins are spreading out, then,” Shining muttered. Arcane nodded.
“We haven’t sent out any other aerial patrols, but at the moment we’re assuming that the situation is the same everywhere else in Equestria,” he continued. “The griffins will be moving out from Canterlot and taking over the other major cities and towns. They’ll probably spread out after that and move into the wilderness to weed out any remaining resistance.”
“That’ll be our time to strike then,” Shining said. “Ambush their patrols and supply convoys, hope that they can’t pin down our location.”
Arcane nodded. “Strong Swing has also begun drilling the Provincials. Hopefully we’ll be able to make them into something resembling soldiers by the time they’re needed.”
Shining Armor nodded back. “Let’s hope so.” He looked over one of the maps, sighing as he thought of the ponies that were being brought under the heel of the griffins. “I just wish that we could do more, and faster.”
“You’re not the only one, Captain,” Arcane said reassuringly, resting a hoof on Shining’s shoulder. “Everypony in this castle wants to get out and help Equestria. But we can’t. For now, the ponies of Equestria have to endure.”
***
Derbyshire
Colonel Grimfeather looked on in satisfaction as he took in the scene before him. Derbyshire had been subdued fairly quickly, the inhabitants staring on in wide-eyed shock as columns of griffin soldiers had marched down the street, other griffins perched on the rooftops with bows in hand and ready to shoot anypony that made a funny move. The town’s government had been rounded up and kept hostage in Derbyshire’s town hall, heavily guarded against any rescue attempt.
Grimfeather turned and looked to the north of Derbyshire, to the farm that even now was sending pillars of thick black smoke into the sky as the various buildings burned merrily. A number of griffins among the companies he led were from Talos, and had taken out the supposed theft of one of the city’s surplus fields out on the Apple ponies that had bought the land.. Grimfeather remembered flying past them as the flotilla had moved on the town, the family and their farmhoofs out in the yard, looking up in confusion at the griffins flying overhead. He still remembered the makeup of the family; three adult colts, plus the mother and father of the family and the fifteen other ponies that made up the farm’s help. He sighed as he heard a scream echo across the open prairie between the farm and the town itself. “Better go and make sure that they’re not roughing them up too much…” He spread his wings and took off, flying towards the smoke.
The farm was in chaos when Grimfeather arrived. A few of the farm workers were on the ground, either screaming in pain from wounds or dead where they lay. The farm’s three sons had had both pairs of legs bound separately and had then been hung from the doors like slabs of meat. All three had been badly beaten, their heads hanging low, their chins resting against their chests. They still jerked occasionally as a passing griffin would hit them, but for the most part they hung limply, not moving, the odd groan working its way out of one of the trio’s mouths.
Grimfeather ignored them and made for a nearby griffin that sat on the edge of the farm’s well, several other griffins coming and going as they brought him various crates and bags filled with other foodstuffs. The griffin looked up from the clipboard he was using, then jerked and got to his feet, saluting as he did. “Colonel, sir!”
“At ease,” Grimfeather replied, returning the salute. “What are you and your troops doing here?”
“Logistics, sir,” the griffin replied. “Figured that we couldn’t let all this food go to waste.”
“And the farm’s owners?” Grimfeather asked, raising an eyebrow as he jerked a thumb back at the doors with the three ponies still hanging from it. A pair of griffins had apparently either gotten bored or finished up their work and had turned their attention to one of the stallions, a cream-colored one with a mane the color of a ripe apple.
“Well since this is royal territory and all, we thought it prudent to take what was rightfully ours,” the griffin replied. “It wasn’t this lot’s to begin with.”
Grimfeather winced slightly as he heard the loud thump of a griffin’s fist slamming into the stallion’s belly, the unfortunate pony letting out a noise that sounded like “Guelph!” He sighed. “Right. Once you’re finished cataloguing everything, move it all to the supply depots on the town’s western side. And cut those three down before you leave,” he added, gesturing to the three stallions.
“Understood, sir,” the griffin replied. “Anything else?”
“What did you do with the other two? Those three’s parents?”
“Hid in the house, sir. Those three gathered some of the help and armed themselves.”
“They fought you?” Grimfeather asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Yessir,” the officer replied, nodding. “Not very well, admittedly. A few wounded but nothing serious.”
Grimfeather nodded. “Right. Carry on.” He took off as the griffin saluted, flying back towards Derbyshire. He halted in midair, landing on a low-flying cloud and looking around Derbyshire. In the hours since the town had been occupied, its conquerors had been busy. Stakes and earthworks had been set up around most of the town, temporary barricades functioning as security checkpoints on all of the main roads into the town. White tents and wagons that made up the supply depot that the army had set up had been set up on the western side of the town. In the skies around Derbyshire flights of griffins flew high-level aerial patrols, the two airships that the army had brought along floating over the town. Grimfeather nodded at the tableau, satisfied.
***
Ponyville
Rosten nodded approvingly as he looked up at the palisades that were quickly beginning to encircle Ponyville. The construction had been proceeding rapidly, especially once Blackwing had sent additional troops to help with the construction. Already the main walls around Ponyville were nearly complete, earthworks and stakes around the paths to the buildings further out were already halfway done, the digging skills of the army’s dogs coming into play. The other palisades around the forts that were strategically placed around Ponyville had already been completed, various tents and temporary structures already erected inside them. He’d made sure that the prisoners that the new troops had come in with were treated well and fairly, though to be honest only the Royal Guard prisoners, those used to physical exertion, were really of any use. The rest groaned and strained to get a single wooden beam up into position, even the unicorns among them. Rosten had had to stop more than one attempted beating of a pony that hadn’t been performing to the overseer’s expectations.
Rosten turned around, focusing his eyes on the Everfree Forest behind him. The forests’ trees were visible over the walls, the boost in height provided by the hill that the forests’ borders began on.
They’re in there somewhere… Rosten thought to himself. And I guess it falls to me to dig them out.
“Captain Rosten!” said the by-now familiar voice of a courier from above him. Rosten looked up as the messenger landed, handing him a scroll. Rosten cut the ribbon open with his claw, unfurling it and reading it, his eyes shifting side to side. It was a message from Blackwing, calling him back to Canterlot to receive another message. Rosten rolled the scroll up and handed it back to the courier. “Tell Lieutenant Thermal that he’s in charge of continuing the construction until I return.”
At the courier’s nod, Rosten spread his wings and took off, circling the town to give it a final, appraising look before he turned northeast, towards Canterlot.
***
The scene in Derbyshire was the same all over Equestria. Towns were occupied. Lines of dogs and griffins marched down streets, others circling the towns from the air. Flags of municipalities and of Equestria in general were thrown down from their places of honor on top of buildings, the flag of the Griffin Kingdoms being put up in their place. Ponies were rounded up and informed of the new order of their previously idyllic world: their Princesses had abandoned them. Their Royal Guard was destroyed. The Elements of Harmony were not coming to rescue them. They were alone, and under new leadership.
In Canterlot, Blackwing’s smile was growing more and more as courier after courier came in with updates. Vanhoover had fallen. Tall Tale had fallen. Dodge Junction had been taken. Manehattan had surrendered. Baltimare and Fillydelphia were theirs. Derbyshire was occupied. City after city, town after town.
We’ve done it, Blackwing thought as he mentally checked off the lists of Equestrian settlements. Equestria is ours.