Darkness blanketed the sky above Skyfall. The war-torn city lay in the distance, dying fires emitting clouds of smoke into the smog-choked atmosphere. But despite the obvious evidence of combat and death, the entire area was completely silent. Not even a light breeze disturbed the stillness. It sent a chill down Fleethoof’s spine.
Two groups of ponies sat atop one of the hills surrounding the city, staring across the distance at their destination: the small squad belonging to the sergeant and the gold-armored Royal Guard that had been left behind. Fleethoof and Sharp Shot held binoculars in their hooves, scanning the parts of the metropolis they could see from their position. Nothing could be seen—no ponies, no griffons, no bodies—nothing.
“Skyfall…” Valiant muttered to himself, staring at the dark stone city. “I can’t believe it’s been months since we were last here.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Sharp Shot said sarcastically.
Valiant gave a deadpan laugh, rolling his eyes at the sniper. Fleethoof hit the sniper’s shoulder to shut him up, earning an exaggerated whine from the overly dramatic pony. That was enough sarcasm for one sitting. They had a job to do, and with innocent lives on the line, he wanted to make sure everything went off without a hitch. There was no room for error. Nothing could go wrong.
“All right, so what’s the plan?” one of Fleethoof’s soldiers asked.
“We’re going to have to wait for nightfall before we do anything, so we—”
“Excuse me,” the Royal Guard officer interrupted Fleethoof, leering at him. “I’m the highest rank, Sergeant. I’ll be taking over from here.”
A few calls of disapproval rang out from Fleethoof’s squad. The sergeant silenced them with a gentle wave of his hoof, turning to engage the lieutenant with a calm demeanor.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to step out of line,” he replied in a passive-aggressive tone, smiling pleasantly at the unicorn in gold armor. “By all means, you take the lead. I’m sure you’ve done plenty of rescue and stealth missions in your career.”
The pony fell silent, his ears pinned back against his helmet. The egotistical look in his eyes began to fade. Fleethoof knew he had him on the ropes.
“Wait, you haven’t?” he continued in a shocked tone. His soldiers began to snicker behind him at the mockery. “But… But how are we going to accomplish this mission and save two very important lives if you’ve never done this before?”
The officer’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed while a red flush filled his cheeks.
“Look, Lieutenant, with all due respect, let’s not make this a pissing match and pull rank on each other. We have to work together if we’re gonna get out of here alive.”
“I agree,” one of the Royal Guard ponies spoke up after a moment.
“Aye.”
“Me too.”
The lieutenant took a look around at his mutinous troops, then back to Fleethoof. The sergeant saw something break in the pony’s eyes and he heaved an unenthused sigh.
“Fine. What would you suggest, Sergeant?”
Fleethoof smiled and nodded. “We’ll wait until dusk, then slip into the city. We have to locate the hostages and free them with as little conflict as possible so we don’t attract attention.”
“Skyfall’s a big city, Sarge,” Valiant said in observation, looking back to the city in question. “How are we gonna find two ponies in there?”
“We have all night,” said Fleethoof with a shrug. “Or we could interrogate some griffons, see if they know anything.”
“That sounds risky,” a Guard noted.
“It is, but this whole mission is risky.”
“And once we free the hostages, how are we getting out of Skyfall and back to Equestria?” Sharp Shot asked. Several others murmured in agreement with the query.
Fleethoof let a slow exhale escape his lungs and ran a hoof through his short-cropped mane. This was the part of the plan that was sketchy.
“There’s only one way out… the boats.”
“The boats? You mean the massive ships that took hundreds of ponies to helm when we came over here?” Sharp Shot asked with an incredulous laugh.
“We don’t really have another choice, Corporal…” remarked a despondent Fleethoof, shaking his head.
“We could take the yacht we came over on with the princesses,” the Guard lieutenant suggested. “It’s smaller, faster, more maneuverable, and takes far less ponies to sail it.”
“That’s perfect!” Fleethoof's eyes lit up at the prospect of an easy escape route. “How many ponies does it take to sail?”
“About eight. A dozen ideally, but eight can make it work.”
“Okay, and we have thirteen right now, so we’re golden. With any luck, the griffons haven’t burned our ships down yet. Hopefully they’ve been too busy holding the city to get around to it.”
“I dunno, Sarge… There’s a lot of smoke coming from there…”
Fleethoof's eyes turned to follow Valiant’s out to Skyfall again. Everypony looked out across the dead, smoking city in silence. Fleethoof pushed back the lingering doubt in his mind and reached back to grab his rifle.
“We have to hope, Private…” he said, plain and simple while double-checking his weapon. “For all our sakes, we have to hope…”
As the blood-red sun began to set, casting the orange sky into a sea of liquid fire, the squad of ponies crept along the outer wall of Skyfall. The soft sounds of the waves in the distance could just be heard now. The smell of smoke and death lingered in the salty air. Gulls cried in the air above their heads, finding places to roost for the night in the desolate city.
Keeping to the long, dark shadows, the ponies slunk alongside the stone walls until they reached the gate. The wooden barriers had been blown apart, the remnants charred and hanging on their hinges. The griffons that launched the counterattack had clearly meant business.
The courtyard on the uppermost tier was a grim sight. The bodies of ponies lay scattered and broken as far as the eye could see, the cobblestone stained a dark hue of red with the dried blood. In the fading afternoon light, the bodies seemed to give off a golden glow, as if their spirits were still dying inside like embers on a hearth. Fleethoof knew the life had left them long ago.
Somepony gagged. Even he had to admit it was macabre. The griffons didn’t have the decency to clear the corpses from the streets, choosing instead to leave them to rot in plain sight. The soldier shook his head in disgust and tried not to breathe through his nose.
“Keep moving…” he said in a hushed tone back to his soldiers.
Leading the team slowly through the open courtyard was a tense situation. At any moment, they could be attacked from any side with no defense. They would become another group of bodies left to decay on the ground. Fleethoof forced the thought from his mind and pushed on. He wouldn’t let fear get the better of him, not when he was so close to saving those who depended on him.
The ponies stuck to the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun, making their way across the courtyard. The city was as dead and silent as it had seemed from a distance. No griffons, ponies, or any signs of life could be seen. Save for the remains of the battle that had occurred, Skyfall looked like a ghost town. Bullet casings littered the cobblestone street like petals in the springtime, ashes and scorch marks from explosions spread around the ground. One of the buildings was completely destroyed, nothing left standing but the skeletal outer walls and rubble. A segment of city hall had been blown away to reveal the interior. Parts of the structure were still burning with dying fires.
“Sarge…” Valiant whispered to his leader, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.
Fleethoof looked back and saw what Valiant was directing him to. A lone griffon guard patrolled along the rooftop of city hall, and several silhouettes could be seen moving in and out of view through the windows. The city was still occupied. All the griffons were in hiding. He opened his mouth to speak when a group of griffons made their way out of city hall, descending the stairs to the courtyard.
“Take cover,” Fleethoof hissed in order. Everypony scrambled behind low walls, around corners, or behind anything they could find.
From his hiding spot, Fleethoof watched the griffons troop across the plaza, studying their movements. They were different from the other griffons he had encountered in his time in the Kingdom. They were garbed in matching black uniforms, each one bearing a peculiar emblem embossed on the breast. They carried rifles Fleethoof hadn’t seen griffons with before. It took him a moment before he realized he did recognize those guns—they were theirs! The griffons had looted the guns from the ponies they had slain.
He watched the griffons as they descended through the gate to the next level and vanished from sight. Including the one on the roof and the silhouettes he had seen, he counted twelve griffons. He knew there had to be more around the city somewhere. There was no way a dozen of them had taken over the city.
The Guard lieutenant shifted from his position, moving closer to Fleethoof. “There may be some info on the hostages in city hall if they’re using it as a base.”
“You’re probably right,” Fleethoof agreed with a swift nod. “Let’s break into two teams and search. Your soldiers take the right wing. We’ll search the left. Try to keep it as quiet as possible.”
The lieutenant nodded, then moved to rejoin his soldiers. Fleethoof motioned with his hoof to his squad and the ponies broke from cover, making their way across the courtyard perimeter, sticking to the buildings the entire way. No more griffons emerged from the municipal building, meaning there was still some resistance left inside.
“Valiant, roof,” Fleethoof called back to the pegasus.
Valiant nodded, wings flaring as he took off into the air. He shot like an arrow towards the griffon patrolling the rooftop while the other ponies made their way towards the stairs of city hall. The griffon caught a glimpse of the mobile force—then cried out in surprise as she was tackled to the ground. Valiant pinned his enemy under his weight, knife in hoof as he drove the blade deep into the soldier’s chest. The griffon struggled for all of a moment, then lay still.
Fleethoof nodded up to the pony. Valiant flew down to rejoin the soldiers as they marched up the steps into the dilapidated hall, weapons raised and ready. The building lay in the same state Fleethoof remembered leaving it in over a month ago. It haunted his memory like a violent dream. Bodies of ponies lay about the large open lobby, freshly slain and left about like the ones in the plaza. It made him grimace.
“Remember, everypony, keep it quiet and quick. Do not open fire unless you have no other choice. Any information on the hostages is useful, so check every room and everything,” said Fleethoof in brief reminder, leading his squad off towards the left wing of the structure. “Meet back here as soon as possible.”
The two teams split up, Fleethoof’s squad dividing even further to check both the ground and upper levels concurrently. Fleethoof, Valiant, and two other soldiers took to the upper level, marching up the stairs and down the corridor. Their hooves gripped their rifles tight to their bodies, eyes scanning the empty hallways and the disheveled offices.
One by one, the ponies searched each and every office space, coming up empty-hoofed. The offices were wrecked with useless papers, documents, and memorandums littering the floors and every surface available. With each disappointing turnout, Fleethoof could feel his heart drop more and more. He glanced out a window. Twilight had taken over the sunset, and deep, dark purples colored the sky as light faded outside.
They were running short on time. At any moment, the griffons could discover them and terminate the hostages. His eyes narrowed as he focused himself. He wasn’t going to let them have that chance.
After running through every office they could find turned up nothing, the four ponies rounded a corner and saw the double doors to the mayor’s office, two guards standing before them. Fleethoof flinched and recoiled backwards, the ponies quickly backpedaling around the corner again. But the damage had been done.
“Hey! Stop!” one of the griffons called out.
The sound of rifles loading was heard around the corner. Fleethoof’s heart was hammering in his chest. He glanced back at Valiant, seeing the scared look in the pony’s eyes. His eyes then drifted down to the knife sheath on the pony’s kit. Grabbing the hilt of the knife, he brandished the weapon just as the griffons turned the corner.
With the momentum of his turn, his hoof slammed into one of the griffon’s chest, tearing through the black fabric uniform, right into his heart. The griffon emptied his lungs in a husky gasp and didn’t breathe again as he doubled over, Fleethoof brining the knife around into his back and letting him collapse. The second foe had already begun leveling his gun. Fleethoof grabbed the barrel of the rifle and pulled the griffon closer to him, spinning on his hooves and bringing the blade around for a second pass. The knife sliced through the thin skin on the griffon’s throat, blood splattering across the walls and pouring down the creature’s chest. The griffon gurgled and sputtered as he gripped at the wound in his neck, falling against the wall and sliding to the floor in a mess of gore.
“Whoa, Sarge… Where’d that come from?” one of the soldiers asked. They watched as the dying griffon bled out on the floor, his eyes looking desperately between the ponies looming over him. It would be a slow and messy death.
“C’mon, we have to move fast,” Fleethoof said, handing Valiant’s knife back and casting one last look to the griffon as his enemy’s eyes glazed over, the life ebbing from him.
Making their way back to the mayor’s office, Fleethoof bucked the doors inward. The large office was empty, but it wasn’t lacking results. Maps were hung across the walls and rolled out over tables. The floors were smothered with papers. This had to be the nerve center for the griffons’ operations within Skyfall.
There had to be something here…
“Search everything. Start with what’s on the tables. It has to be the most recent stuff,” the sergeant said and rushed over to the mayor’s desk.
A quick survey of the contents held a few books, maps of Skyfall, the Griffon Kingdom, and Equestria, and a dozen documents. He skimmed through each one with quick eyes. A field report, field report, an order from Asgard… and a letter. Fleethoof’s eyes scanned the contents of the letter. It was addressed to King Alaric from a Field Officer Bronzebeak.
“I’ve got something,” Valiant called out behind him. “They actually have three hostages now. They kept Captain Cuirass alive. They’re holding them in a building on the second tier.”
“They’ve been moved,” corrected Fleethoof, rereading the letter in his hooves again. “The griffon officer was afraid of security risks, so he had them moved to the large watchtower overlooking the city. I’m guessing none of the hostages can fly, or they’re being heavily guarded.”
“Is it too much to hope for the first option?” a soldier spoke in jest. Fleethoof smirked a little.
“We can hope. Come on, let’s get back and meet up with the others. We don’t have a lot of time to work with.”
The four ponies rushed back to the foyer with the documents. Fleethoof was eager to get to the hostages so he’d at least have the peace of mind knowing they were safe in their custody. As they made their way down the stairs to the ground level again, the other half of Fleethoof’s team emerged and rejoined them. Shortly later, the Royal Guard returned.
“We didn’t find a thing. Just a couple griffons we had to deal with,” the lieutenant reported.
“We found out where the hostages are being held. They’re in the observation tower. According to a map I saw, we should be able to access it from this tier of the city,” said Fleethoof.
“Then we should get moving on the double.”
The squad made their way out of city hall and down the steps to the bloody courtyard. Fleethoof could see the silhouette of the tower looming in the darkness, a few lighted windows dotting its surface. It must have been used as a lighthouse once upon a time or a reconnaissance lookout of sorts. Following what little he remembered of the map and his reasoning, Fleethoof led the troops through the dark streets of the city towards their destination.
No griffons were patrolling the streets on this level. It made Fleethoof uneasy. Where could they all be?
Passing through a small plaza illuminated by a burning fire, the squad came across another grim sight that made them all stop in their tracks. In the center of the plaza stood a crudely built gallows, seven ponies hanging limp from it by their necks, their bodies swaying in midair. More bodies of fallen soldiers lay scattered about the square. Fleethoof could feel his stomach churn and his throat tighten. Somepony began retching behind him.
“They’re monsters…” a soldier spat in disgust.
“How could they do such a thing?” asked Valiant with horror distorting his voice.
“Alaric has instilled such a deep hatred for ponies in his subjects. It’s like their sole purpose is to despise us now.”
“There has to be some sort of laws or codes against this though,” a furious Sharp Shot said. “This can’t be allowed. He has to be a war criminal for this!”
“He is…” the Guard lieutenant muttered darkly. “He’s violated several wartime codes of the Geneighva Conventions… He just doesn’t care…”
“He’ll win by any means necessary…” Fleethoof swallowed back the bile threatening to rise in his throat. “Come on, we can’t dawdle. Let’s keep moving.”
Everypony began to slowly tear themselves away from the spectacle before them and make their way across the plaza. Fleethoof let his gaze linger a moment longer, then began to turn away when something in the flickering light caught his eye. His breath caught in his chest. He did a double take, confirming what he had noticed before. He stopped and stared, moving with slow hooves from the shadows into the open air.
“Sergeant! What are you doing?” a soldier cried out, trying to keep his voice down.
Fleethoof didn’t respond. Once he reached the scaffold, he looked up at one of the hanging bodies, studying it closer in the light. His heart dropped into his stomach and he felt a cold numbness set in.
“Sarge?” Valiant asked, approaching him with a couple of soldiers in tow. “Sergeant Fleethoof, are you all right?”
“Give me your knife, Private.” Fleethoof's voice was monotone and flat.
“Sarge...?”
“Knife!”
Valiant shrank back, but obeyed, albeit with hesitation. He drew his knife and handed it to him. Fleethoof snatched up the knife and flew up to the overhanging beam, cutting through the noose’s rope with a swift jerk of the blade. The body dropped to the cobblestones below; Fleethoof collapsed next to it.
“Cut the rest of them down,” he commanded, placing the knife back in Valiant’s hooves.
Valiant glanced back to the soldiers with him, all looking uncertain and worried. The rest of Fleethoof’s squad and the Royal Guard lingered just behind them, watching with concerned eyes. One by one, the soldiers began to cut the corpses down, laying then gingerly on the ground.
Fleethoof sat beside the body he had freed, staring down at it with blank eyes. His expression was unreadable. His mind was devoid of any conscious thought. His hooves cradled the dead body of the pale blue unicorn, his body cut and marred, his coat mottled with bloodstains. The pony’s deep green eyes stared up at the night sky, though they saw nothing, open in the eternal gaze of death. Fleethoof’s lip quivered as he fought back a rush of emotion. His eyes drifted down to the colt’s flank to his cutie mark.
A pale gray shield adorned his flank, the mark stained red from his injuries. Fleethoof recognized this pony clear as day. It was Steel Shield.
Fleethoof’s heart ached in pain as he stared at the remains of his friend. His hooves shook as he supported the body, unable to speak, unable to breathe. His mind refused to acknowledge the sight. Simply staring into his friend’s lifeless eyes made the pony feel like he was coming undone at the seams.
“Sergeant…” Valiant called to him. Fleethoof felt his hoof touching his shoulder, barely catching his attention. “We have to keep moving.”
For a while, the pony didn’t respond. Valiant shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“Sergeant—”
“Give me a minute,” Fleethoof said.
Valiant hesitated, a confused look crossing his features. “We can’t just wait. The hostages need us.”
“Give me a minute.”
“But Sarge, we—”
“Private,” Fleethoof's tone was stern, his gaze hard. “I said 'a minute'.”
Valiant froze for a moment, and then backed off, returning to the rest of the squad. Fleethoof watched him trot away before turning back to the body in his grasp.
He wasn’t ready… I knew he wasn’t ready for battle… thought Fleethoof, shaking his head back and forth over and over. He just… wasn’t ever ready…
“You silly fool… Look what you’ve gotten yourself into now…” Fleethoof whispered to his deceased friend, his shaking chuckle husked under his breath. “You were always getting into all kinds of trouble in boot camp… I told you, one day you’re gonna get in too deep. I told you to get out while you can because I couldn’t always be looking out for you… I fucking told you…”
Fleethoof choked back another sob. His vision was beginning to get blurry with crystalline tears. He waited, waited to hear a witty comeback from the wisecracking pony he’d befriended in basic training. Only silence answered him back.
“The one time I couldn’t be here… I tried to protect you from everything! Drill sergeants, our CO, soldiers you pranked, even yourself… I said I’d always have your back…” he continued, the warm tears falling down his face. “But you had to stay in the Guard because you were too fucking stubborn to leave your friend behind…! And you got involved in the one thing I couldn’t protect you from…”
Another pause as he took a heavy, uneven breath. He held the pony closer in a tight embrace. The tears fell from the end of his nose and landed on the coat of Steel Shield.
“I’m sorry, Steel… I’m so sorry… I couldn’t protect you…” Fleethoof sobbed. His body quivered, unable to speak for a few long moments. “The one time you needed me the most and I wasn’t around to protect you… I’m sorry…”
He lifted a tender hoof and closed his friend’s eyes, granting him his eternal rest. He leaned closer and planted a soft, farewell kiss on the unicorn’s forehead before laying him back down on the cobblestone.
Fleethoof rose to his hooves, sniffling back another wave of tears and swallowing back his sorrow as best he could. He gave Steel Shield a final look, then turned on his hooves and marched back to his soldiers. Sorrow and anger burned in his heart. Nopony said a word to the grieving soldier.
“Let’s move…” he muttered, never breaking his gait as he strode past the soldiers in the direction of the tower. All he had on his mind now was completing his mission and avenging his fallen friend.
The entrance to the tower was a small, unassuming building that looked identical to the ones around it. The only hint that gave it away was the guards patrolling out front. Two Royal Guards silently eliminated them. The house served only as a portal to the tower. No furnishings were present; just a single hallway that led to a winding stone staircase.
The ponies marched up the long spiral stairs with purpose, not sure where they were headed yet. When they arrived on a terrace alongside the tower, Fleethoof knew they had arrived. The terrace led alongside the mountain right to the door of the tower. One sleeping griffon sat outside the door. He grabbed the griffon round the neck, pulling him to his feet, and then dropping him with a sharp twist of his neck.
The Guard lieutenant opened the door as quietly as he could, peeking inside for a moment before pushing it open. The tower was as barren as Fleethoof had expected. A staircase spiraled along the wall all the way to the top. No guards were in sight—yet.
“Stay alert,” the lieutenant called back to everypony, making his way up the stairs first.
The soldiers hurried up the steps. Fleethoof’s eyes remained upwards the entire way, watching the ceiling get closer and closer until the stairs wrapped around and they arrived at the top floor. A single guard stood in front of a wooden door at the top, turning to face the ponies when he heard the approaching steps. He squawked in surprise when the lieutenant charged him, slamming him back against the wall and drawing his pistol.
“Wait!” Fleethoof cried. Too late. A single gunshot echoed through the tower as the pony fired, too fast to be stopped.
He let the dead griffon drop, turning to face Fleethoof with a look of disregard and a shrug. “He’s dead. What does it matter?” he asked, opening the door slowly and peeking inside.
Everything was silent, and then the lieutenant opened the door and stepped inside, the Royal Guard following in behind him. Fleethoof lingered by the door and watched the two ponies step into the room. The top of the tower was dark. Every light sat extinguished, the only light coming from the moonlight pouring in through the arched windows.
Fleethoof stepped in after the two with the rest of the soldiers right behind him. Each step he took was slowed with unease. He had been certain there was a trap set up at the top, but it just seemed empty and abandoned.
And then two gunshots fired. Fleethoof watched the lieutenant and Guard drop to the ground.
“To the left!” he barked, everypony turning on their hooves.
Two griffons stood in the dark corner of the room, turning their aim to the rest of the ponies. They didn’t have the chance to fire again as the squad lit them up with a short barrage of gunfire.
“Get the hostages now!” shouted Fleethoof, looking to a couple soldiers. “You three, barricade that door! The others will have heard the shots and be on their way.”
“What about the windows? They do fly, Sarge,” Valiant asked.
“Sharp Shot, keep an eye outside,” he continued, making his way across the room. “If you see any griffons, shoot them.”
Sharp Shot got a wide grin and unslung his rifle from his shoulder. “You got it, boss!”
Fleethoof marched across the compact room to the only other door left. The hostages had to be behind there. Gripping his rifle in his hooves, he took a deep breath to steady himself—and felt a hoof on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw Valiant nod to him, his pistol drawn and aiming past his squad leader. Behind him was the rest of the squad. They had his back.
With a swift kick from his hind leg, the door flew inward. The second room was illuminated with luminous torches, making it easy to see the three griffons diving for cover. Fleethoof and Valiant opened fire, taking out their enemies with accuracy and speed.
“Clear!” Fleethoof's call was loud and certain as they swept the room and Valiant checked the bodies.
“Oh please, don’t kill me!” a pitiful voice cowered from the far wall. “Wait, you’re ponies. Well, it’s about time!”
Fleethoof turned and saw three ponies chained to the wall by their hooves. One he recognized off the bat: Captain Cuirass. Another hostage was a white unicorn with a flowing amber mane. He wore a long velvet cloak and bowtie, clearly dressed for luxury and appearance. Fleethoof didn’t recognize him. The last of the hostages was an alicorn, light pink in color, with a tri-color mane. She looked both beautiful and disheveled, and the happiest of all three to see the soldiers. He recognized her.
“Princess Cadance!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Valiant, get the captain.”
“What about me?!” the unicorn cried out, squirming against his shackles like a distressed animal. “Get me out of these dreadful things! Do you know who I am?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Fleethoof said in earnest, turning his attention to the princess as he released her. “Princess Cadance, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, soldier.” She smiled to prove her point as she dropped down to her hooves, flexing her legs to return circulation to them.
“You, soldier! Let me down at once! I am Prince Blueblood, nephew to the regal Princess Celestia, and I demand you free me now!”
Rolling his eyes, Fleethoof gave a mock salute and freed the wailing prince, fighting back a snicker when the stallion yelped in surprise and collapsed to the floor. Outside, a loud gunshot rang out, making the soldiers turn, and Cadance recoil in terror.
“It’s all right, your majesty. That was one of ours,” Fleethoof assured her, another shot going off in the next room. “What are you two doing here? You’re royalty. Shouldn’t you be back in Canterlot?”
“We were, until Aunt Celestia asked me to join her at the negotiations,” Cadance said. “She said she needed help spreading love to the griffons. Something about them being possessed with hate.”
Fleethoof nodded. It made sense. Celestia had planned to fight Alaric’s propaganda of hatred with Cadance’s magic of love. He glanced over at Blueblood, who was busy brushing the dust from his coat and cloak.
“...And why is he here?”
“Alaric refused to speak to any of our diplomats—only members of the royal family. Aunt 'Tia thought he could use some ‘real world experience’, but I think it was mostly to get him out of Canterlot and doing some good,” said Cadance with a wry smile.
“So which one of you is the ‘ambassador’, and which is the VIP?”
“I think I’ll let you decide that one, soldier.”
Fleethoof smirked. A sudden hoof on his shoulder caught his attention. Captain Cuirass was beside him, nodding to the sergeant as he loaded one of the griffon’s rifles.
“Well done, son. Great rescue attempt,” he spoke in compliment.
“This was ‘great’? I was chained to a wall for four days!” Blueblood whined.
“One more word from you, ‘your highness’, and I’ll knock you out cold and drag you back myself,” Cuirass threatened, earning a shocked gasp and insulted look from the aristocrat. “So, fill me in, boy. What’s this plan of yours?”
Another shot was fired, then another. It seemed Sharp Shot was meeting some resistance.
“We have to get the prince and princess out of here and back to Equestria before we do anything else,” Fleethoof explained. “We work our way through Skyfall to the beach and take the yacht Princess Celestia and Princess Luna left behind.”
“Short and simple; I love it,” Cuirass said in approval as Cadance and Blueblood gathered up their confiscated belongings. “So we fight our way out through the griffon special forces, right?”
Fleethoof nodded. “Right.”
Smashing glass was heard in the adjacent room, followed by a loud, intense, and brief firefight. Fleethoof and Cuirass rushed into the adjacent room, watching as the ponies finished off a couple of griffons that had brashly invaded the tower.
“Um, Fleethoof…?” Sharp Shot called from the window. Cuirass stepped over beside the sniper.
“One question, Sergeant,” asked Cuirass as Fleethoof joined them at the window. “How are we going to fight through that?”
The sergeant’s eyes went as wide as his mouth. At least three dozen griffons circled in the air outside the tower. A few shots were fired at the ponies, breaking through the glass windows. Everypony hid under cover, a couple bracing the door as it gave a violent shake. The griffons were trying to break in.
“Oh, dear, sweet aunt… We’re dead, aren’t we? We’re dead, we’re dead, we’re all going to die!” Blueblood shrieked from the doorway. Another bullet smashed through the glass and struck the wall near the unicorn, making him squeal and run back into the safety of the back room.
“Is there no other way out?” Cadance asked, approaching the two officers.
“Your majesty, I’ve been stationed here for a month. I’ve checked every part of this city. There’s no other way out of this tower,” said Cuirass in a very matter-of-factly manner.
The door shook again, knocking the ponies holding it in place backwards. Two more joined the effort to keep it stable, while another assisted Sharp Shot at the window, taking potshots at the airborne griffons. Another volley of bullets ripped through the windows, missing the ponies by miles. Fleethoof grabbed Princess Cadance and pulled her down to the cover of the floor until the gunfire had subsided again.
“We have to do something!” Valiant cried out, reloading his rifle and taking a position at the windows as well.
“What else can we do?” asked Sharp Shot in a biting manner.
“I don’t fucking know!”
“Well, can we think of something fast?! This door isn’t gonna hold much longer!” a soldier at the door yelled back.
“They’re coming around for another pass!” Valiant cried in warning. “Everypony get down!”
No sooner had Valiant said that, another round of shots tore through the tower in all directions. Fleethoof covered Cadance with his body. She had to survive, he didn’t. The ponies at the windows returned fire as best they could until the griffons flew out of sight again, circling around the tower in perfect formation.
“That’s it! We’ll go out through the windows!”
“Have you gone completely mad?!” Sharp Shot asked, looking back at Fleethoof in concern. “Fighting the griffons is one thing, but leaving ourselves open? We’d be butchered alive!”
“Not if we lead the griffons away! Every pegasi left, myself included, can lead them on a chase around the city while you rappel down the tower.”
“That’s suicide!” exclaimed Valiant.
Fleethoof rolled his eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”
Nopony spoke up.
“There’s only three pegasus ponies here,” Cuirass observed. “You’ll have to be quick and careful.”
Fleethoof gave the captain a confident grin. “Quick and careful are my specialty, sir.”
“All right, we’ll do it on the next pass,” the captain said with a nod. “Every pegasi get ready to go.”
Cuirass traded out spots with one of the ponies holding the door. The three pegasi gathered together, waiting near the windows for their opportunity. Fleethoof could feel his heart racing. A familiar rush of adrenaline fueled him.
“Please be careful, soldiers,” Cadance said as they got into position.
Fleethoof glanced back at her and nodded once. The griffons flew by the window, the ponies opening up a heavy spray of suppressive fire to keep the return fire to a minimum.
“Now! Go, go, go!” Fleethoof called to his partners. The ponies rushed the windows.
Crash!
In a spray of glass shards, Fleethoof was outside and in flight. He could feel the shrapnel leaving small cuts across his hooves and body, but ignored the stinging. The cool night air felt wonderful on his sweat-covered skin. As soon as they were out, he saw the aerial griffons turn, banking back towards them. More had joined the battle, having given up on the door.
“Fly low, keep to the rooftops and streets,” he ordered, and the trio shot downward into the city. Behind them, gunfire from the ponies covered their descent.
The pegasi skimmed over the rooftops of Skyfall, the shots above and behind them letting them know the plan was working. The griffons were in hot pursuit and they had taken their attention away from the hostages. Fleethoof risked a backwards glance and instantly wished he hadn’t. At least a dozen griffons were right on their tails, out for blood.
“Split up! Keep them busy for a little while longer!” At his order, they broke off in three different directions. The griffon horde hesitated for a moment before taking off after each pony in groups of four. Fleethoof flew as fast as his wings would take him, the bullets ripping through the air past his head more than enough encouragement to speed up. He zipped down through a street, following the network of roads and buildings, leading the griffons on a wild chase.
A stray bullet came too close for comfort across his side, grazing his skin and making the pony jerk to the side in recoil. He flinched when he almost crashed into the side of a building, veering up to try and right himself—but he was now in the open air. Bullets came at him from multiple directions, terrifying the pegasus as he dove back down into the safety of the city.
Fleethoof glanced up towards the tower. He could see the silhouettes of ponies rappelling down the tower. The plan was working! The griffons were spread too thin and distracted. Grinning to himself, Fleethoof returned his focus to his flying—and cried out in surprise at the building suddenly in front of his face.
He pulled up, but it was too late. The pony ended up crashing through another window, soaring through the room he had broken into, and smashing back out through a second window. The glass cut and stung, and he could feel warm blood running across his hooves, face, and chest. His wings had survived the collision though. He had to keep those safe, otherwise he was done for.
The too familiar sound of a gun firing rang out behind him. Fleethoof decided it was time to turn the tables. Drawing his sidearm, he twisted in midair, firing three rounds back at his pursuers. The griffons broke formation. That was all the time he needed.
Dodging and weaving his way down an alley and another street, Fleethoof broke away from the chase, watching as the griffons circled aimlessly around while looking for him. Lifting his gun, Fleethoof fired a few shots, killing two of his pursuers and sending the others scattering in fear. He chuckled and looked back to the tower. No more ponies were descending the rope. They had made it out.
Taking flight back up to the tower as fast as he could, Fleethoof returned back to make sure everypony was gone—and was startled to find Captain Cuirass and Princess Cadance still there, bracing the door with their bodies.
“What in the name of Celestia are you doing?!” he cried out, rushing over and throwing his weight against the buckling door. “You were supposed to get out!”
“Little Miss Loyal Royal here wouldn’t leave,” Cuirass growled through gritted teeth as the two soldiers’ combined strength forced the door shut again.
“Not until everypony else was safe first, the captain and yourself included, soldier,” Cadance remarked.
“Now is not the time for noble sentiments, your majesty,” said Fleethoof, the strain of keeping the door shut evident in his voice. “You are the one who has to get out of here unharmed, not us. Now please, go!”
Cadance refused to move. “A princess’s loyalties are to her ponies first.”
“And her soldiers’ are to her. Now go!”
A chunk of wood flew off the door as a griffon's talon smashed through the wood, making the alicorn scream aloud. The talon retracted, and then returned, feeling around the door for the lock. Fleethoof slammed his hoof into the claw with all the might he could muster. A shriek of pain was heard from the other side of the door and the talon disappeared.
Another talon broke through, wielding a revolver as it waved around the room. Captain Cuirass let out a roar of fury, grabbing the griffon’s wrist and twisting. A snapping sound was heard and the avian dropped the pistol. The captain grabbed the fallen weapon and let out a loud battle cry as he stuck it back through, firing off every round blindly at the attacking griffons.
Claws scrambling against stone and flapping wings were heard, followed by calls to fall back, and then silence.
“We need to go,” Cuirass muttered while tossing the spent firearm aside.
Fleethoof lingered beside the door, staring at it with doubt. “Why haven’t they shot us?”
“Uh, they just tried to,” the officer said, correcting him.
“No, I mean, why didn’t they just shoot through the door in the first place?” he clarified, eyeing the door with rousing suspicion. “They didn’t light us up when they were flying around either. They were very careful. What’s stopping them?”
Nopony spoke for a moment. Fleethoof looked around the tower quickly, searching for a reason for the immaculate precision and caution in the griffons’ retaliation. Aside from the hostages, there was nothing of value in the tower. Just some cheap wood furniture, a mostly empty bookcase, barrels stacked around the walls…
Wait…
“What’s in those barrels?” he asked, pressing his ear to the door, listening for the returning enemies.
Captain Cuirass grabbed a knife from one of the fallen ponies and stabbed the nearest barrel, cracking a hole in the wood. A soft hissing sound filled the tower as a stream of fine black powder poured to the floor. The pony knelt beside the barrel, catching the powder in his hoof and sniffing it, studying it. His eyes darkened.
“Gunpowder.”
Fleethoof’s eyes went wide as dinner plates while the sound of steps approaching the door came closer. They lingered outside the door, no longer pounding on it—just waiting.
“You want your princess so badly? Fine! You can all have it then!” a griffon shouted from outside the door.
“Okay, time to go.” Fleethoof nudged Princess Cadance towards the windows as Cuirass took position at the rope.
“After you, your majesty,” said Cuirass with a wave of his hoof, handing the rope towards Cadance.
“No, Captain, I insist.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Fleethoof asked incredulously.
“Princess Cadance, I’m not asking any more. I’m ordering you, your highness, get down the rope, before—”
A soft metal clanking was heard as something flew through the holes in the door. Everypony turned and looked, watching two small canisters roll in, landing beside the stack of barrels. Grenades.
“Too late. Jump!” Fleethoof leaped for the window and tackled the princess in the same motion. Both ponies dove out the window as Captain Cuirass jumped out behind them, the rope wound tightly between his hooves.
No sooner had they made it into the air, an explosion burst behind them, and the tower was engulfed in flames. Fleethoof could feel the heat of the fire licking his skin, singing the end of his tail as they freefell down the tower, the apex completely lost in a massive fireball. The griffons weren’t playing around any longer.
“Fly!” he shouted to Cadance as he opened his wings, the fall jerking into an uneasy glide.
Flying while trying to support the added weight of the alicorn was a difficult feat. Fleethoof strained his wings as they glided over the rooftops, veering upward and narrowly avoiding death. Once airborne again, he released Cadance, her wings flaring as she took to the skies right behind the sergeant. The sound of gunfire echoed across the city, and a distant explosion lit the night. The ponies were fighting their way to the boats.
“This way!” he yelled back to the princess to ensure she could hear him. They flew down the levels of Skyfall, trying to keep as low to the roofs as possible and make themselves as small of targets as they could be.
Shots sounded below him. He glanced down and saw a couple of ponies taking cover by a building, opening fire on a griffon. He banked downward and came to land just behind them. He looked up, looking for Cadance—and heard her land behind him. He breathed a sigh with relief. That had been much too risky for his liking.
“Are you all right, your majesty?” he asked. He didn’t notice any visible injuries on her.
Cadance brushed him off with a short wave of her hoof. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Sarge,” a soldier called to him, “where are the others?”
“If we’re lucky, Cuirass is leading them down to the beach now.” Fleethoof looked to the higher levels of the city, listening to the firefights breaking out there as well. “We should get to the boats first and secure them for launch. We need to get out of here sharpish.”
The soldiers nodded and reloaded their rifles as the group made their way through the streets of the city. It sounded like all the combat was occurring further into the city, as there weren’t any enemies around them. Even the main gate was clear and undefended.
The ponies charged through it and out of Skyfall. The instant his hooves hit the sand, Fleethoof felt a wave of solace come over him. They were so close; it was almost over. Running through the cove to the shoreline felt like an eternity, as if time was moving in slow motion. He would glance back every so often, making sure they weren’t being pursued. His priority was still Princess Cadance’s safety. That was his mission.
“Sergeant! The boats!”
The cry of horror caught Fleethoof’s attention. The sight made him skid to a halt. Many of the ships remained intact, save for the ones presently being burned by a group of griffons. They were trying to cut off their escape.
“Stop them!” he ordered, bringing his rifle to bear. His troops opened fire.
The sudden firing caught the griffons’ attention and they attempted to scatter. The lack of cover on the beach proved to be their undoing as the ponies tore them apart.
“This way!” a soldier called from behind them, and then another small band of ponies rushed onto the beach with them.
Fleethoof and his group turned and ran after them down the beachhead, following the rows of ships in the darkness. At the very end lay a smaller ornate ship moored securely to the shore and waiting just for them. The sight was almost enough to make the battle-weary pegasus cry.
He was one of the last to embark, letting the soldiers board first to make ready the ship, and following behind Cadance to ensure her safety. The boat was in pristine condition, without so much as a scratch on the hull. Already, the ponies had set about to work, lighting torches and lanterns to provide light and signal their allies.
A loud explosion from the direction of Skyfall made everypony duck in reflex reaction. Fleethoof turned sharply about to see what had happened. The city lay behind its protective mountains now; he could no longer see anything. Another explosion detonated, and he grit his teeth while he stared down the beach, shifting his weigh back and forth on his hooves to expel his nervous energy.
Moments passed by like hours, each one making his stomach twist and churn. He pressed his hooves tensely to the railing. Staring was all he could do, scarcely able to blink out of worry.
Come on, everypony… Where are you…?
A couple of ponies had joined him at the side of the ship now, Cadance coming over beside him to wait and watch as well. Nopony said a word. Fleethoof realized he was holding his breath. The pressure was too much to bear.
And then the first pony emerged through the darkness, running like his life depended on it towards the boat. Behind him came another, and then another, and another. Soon the entire squad of ponies appeared, rushing to the ship and trying to push it back into the water. Prince Blueblood ran on deck, whimpering and crying the entire way before he collapsed, covering his head with his hooves.
“Cast off now!” Cuirass yelled at the top of his lungs as he barreled down the shore. “Set sails. Go. Go!”
“Move! Move!” a soldier at the rigging called.
“Let’s go! Now!”
“Put your backs into it!”
The cries of griffons from further down the beach echoed in the darkness, chilling Fleethoof’s blood in his veins. He grabbed a torch in his mouth, moving to the bow of the ship and tossing it out as far as he could. Nothing could be seen moving near the illuminating glow... yet.
“Get below deck, Princess…” Fleethoof's command was gentle. His hooves worked in practiced motions, jamming a fresh magazine into his weapon.
No sooner had Cadance gotten out of sight than a couple of griffons rushed into the light, illuminated by the burning torches. Anger burned in him as thoughts of the war flashed through his mind. A pony called out in warning, but Fleethoof already had his weapon up, firing a burst and hitting his mark in the chest, felling another other with a two-shot burst.
More griffons came into view, and the other ponies began fighting back, protecting the ones of the beach trying to get them in the water. Fleethoof focused his breathing, keeping his hooves as steady as he could with each shot. Every bullet mattered. He killed another griffon, and then another with one clean shot to the head.
Bullets began hammering the side of the ship, taking out one of the soldiers onboard. Cuirass stepped over the body and began firing back. The tense firefight through the dark continued in a havoc. Without sight, Fleethoof was forced to follow the muzzle flashes of the enemy to find his targets.
And then the boat lurched, nearly throwing him off his hooves.
“We’re mobile! Release sails and bring her about!”
“Get us the fuck out of here!” Cuirass all but yelled, emptying his magazine into the darkness and reloading it again.
“Think I’d let you have all the fun?” a familiar voice asked Fleethoof, a pony taking up position beside him.
“Good to see you too, Val,” said Fleethoof. “You’d better give them your best shot if you wanna catch up to me.”
“Oh, I intend to!” Valiant laughed and grinned as he opened fire wildly at the griffons.
With the ship moving, it was more difficult to land a shot. Fleethoof settled into laying down suppressive fire, covering their departure rather than going for kills. The Guards had been right: the yacht was fast, and before he knew it, they were leaving the shore far behind them. The griffons seemed to have given up, screeching and roaring in rage as they hid in the cloak of the night. The ponies cheered and shouted in victory. They had escaped.
Fleethoof heaved a sigh as he fired the last bullet in his gun, ejecting the empty magazine—when something landed on the railing in front of him, obscuring his view.
“Fleethoof, no!” he heard Valiant cry, and then suddenly he was shoved to the deck.
A single gunshot rang out near him. Fleethoof saw his friend jerk backwards as a spray of blood burst from his chest. A griffon stood on the railing, a pistol clutched in its talon. A thin strand of smoke still billowed from the barrel.
“Valiant!” Fleethoof cried out in horror.
The griffon turned to face him. Fleethoof demonstrated his namesake. He drew his sidearm in a blur, firing two rounds point blank into his enemy before the avian could even lift his pistol. A deadly focus took the sergeant over as his anger spilled over, rising to his hooves and firing every last round in his gun into his enemy until he ran dry. The griffon recoiled in pain and fell off the side of the ship, crashing into the black ocean with a splash.
“Pony down!”
Fleethoof turned and fell to Valiant’s side. The soldier was staring up at the sky, wheezing and gasping for breath as he coughed hard. Blood stained his uniform, pouring down his side.
“Don’t move, Valiant,” Fleethoof said, his hooves working to keep pressure on the wound. “Somepony get medical supplies, right now!”
“Step back, I’m a medic,” a Guard said, crouching besides the injured pony and removing his helmet. He reached into his saddlebags, producing a roll of gauze, cotton pads, his knife, and two small bottles. “Now Sergeant, when I tell you to, move your hooves.”
Fleethoof nodded. The medic cut open Valiant’s uniform with his blade, revealing the wound, then placed the knife in an open lantern. He opened one of the bottles and poured a clear liquid onto one of the cotton pads, then opened the other.
“Drink this,” he told Valiant, lifting his head to help him. “It’ll dull the pain.”
“D-Dull the… the pain… of wha—”
“Now.”
Fleethoof moved his hooves aside, and the medic pressed the soaked pad to the open wound. Valiant winced and tensed up, his face contorting in agony.
“Oh FUCK! That… didn’t do… anything…!” Valiant hissed through gritted teeth.
The medic shrugged a little. “I lied about that. My apologies. It was more to help with this next part.”
“Hang in there, my friend,” Fleethoof said to the injured pegasus. “You’ve come too far to give in now.”
“Wasn’t… planning on it…” Valiant said between heavy breaths, chuckling under his weakened breath, and then screaming in pain as the medic took the heated knife and pressed the blade to his wound, cauterizing the flesh.
Fleethoof stood up again and turned away, walking to the railing and leaning against it. He couldn’t watch his friend suffer any more. The screams behind him continued for a few moments longer, each one making the pony’s chest tight. Breathing became a difficult task. He felt physically ill, his skin sweaty and clammy.
And then it was silent again.
“Get him below deck to rest,” said the medic, looking to Fleethoof when he had turned around again. “He should be fine for the trip, but we need to get him to a proper hospital. He’ll live with the right attention.”
“Thank you…” Fleethoof murmured with a slow nod. “What’s your name, doctor?”
The medic cocked a half smile and motioned towards his flank, a solid blue shield marking it, and sarcastically replied, “Take a wild guess.”
Fleethoof gave a weak smile, then turned back to look out over the inky ocean. The silhouette of the Griffon Kingdom was steadily fading into the distance as the sleek ship cut through the waves with swift ease. They were going home.
For a long while, Fleethoof stood in the same place at the side of the ship, staring off into space. It felt odd leaving the war behind. For the first time in two months, he didn’t have to worry about fighting, or enemies, or killing, or being killed. It made the pony feel numb and hollow, especially as images and memories flashed through his mind. It was a strange sentiment. He had thought going home would have been a happy occasion. But all he felt was conflicted.
“Soldier…”
The soft voice of Princess Cadance behind him didn’t even faze Fleethoof. He continued to stare out into dark nothingness. When he didn’t respond, Cadance took a few steps closer, joining him at the railing. She studied his blank expression for a while, trying to read into him.
“Soldier. Sergeant… I wanted to thank you, for rescuing us from the griffons,” she said, sincerity and gratitude hanging in each syllable. “Not many would have done what you did. You risked a lot for us. It was very courageous of you.”
Fleethoof remained quiet. Finally he murmured a soft, “Thank you.”
“He’s your friend, isn’t he? The pegasus who was hurt,” Cadance pressed on, trying to draw some form of conversation from the statuesque pony. “I could tell. I can feel the love you two have for each other. It’s strong and touching. His friendship means a lot to you.”
“He’s been by my side since the beginning,” Fleethoof said in straightforward explanation. “He had my back through everything and never doubted me once, even if I did. He’s saved me on multiple occasions. It’s because of him that I’m still alive now. I owe him my life.”
“He hasn’t been your only friend in this, though—right?”
Fleethoof froze up. It took a great deal of strength to swallow the memories of Captain Phalanx, Shining Armor, and Steel Shield.
“...No.”
“You’ve lost somepony close to you…”
That was what it took to get Fleethoof’s gaze from the night onto her. He stared intensely into her rich purple eyes, trying for a moment to figure out what she was hoping to get from him. “You don’t know that.”
“I can feel the sorrow in your love. Even when they’re gone, friendships leave a lasting impression on your heart.”
Again Fleethoof was quiet, but his eyes didn’t turn from Cadance’s this time. “This is war. Ponies die. It’s inevitable. I shouldn’t have expected anything different…”
“But you didn’t expect it to happen to you, at least not so close to you.”
Cadance had hit the nail on the head. Fleethoof would never admit it though. His gaze faltered, falling to the floor, and then back out into the void of black. He didn’t respond. That was response enough. He knew war for what it was. He had been trained as a soldier. It was his lifetime aspiration. But even still, nothing could have prepared him to lose a friend, let alone two. He didn’t even know if Shining Armor was still alive, so that brought the count to three by now.
“Who was it?” she asked after a moment of silence. “The pony you lost?”
“Steel Shield…” His voice low and hard. “His name was Steel Shield. He was my friend from basic training.”
“For a while?”
Fleethoof nodded. “From before all of this… mess. Before the war…”
“I’m sorry…”
Silence fell between the two ponies again. Only the soft lapping of the waves against the hull of the ship and the hooves of the few others on deck could be heard. Cadance looked away at long last, staring down at the black water. Her eyes turned back towards the soldier after a little while.
“If you feel the need to talk, I’d be more than happy to—”
“No.”
Cadance was caught off guard by the abruptness of his answer. “Okay then…”
She hesitated a moment before she dropped down from the railing, turned, and walked away. Fleethoof listened to her leave, her hoofsteps stopping a few paces away. She was lingering.
“Could I at least know the name of my hero?”
Fleethoof turned his head towards her without looking at her.
“Fleethoof. Sergeant Fleethoof.”
“Thank you, Fleethoof, for saving me,” said Cadance with a small smile. “Goodnight, Sergeant.”
“Goodnight, your majesty.”
She lingered for a moment longer. He heard her sigh behind him, the noise just audible above the waves. But what she said had already gotten under his skin, and he could feel something in him boiling over.
"Why do you want to talk about what I've seen?" Fleethoof abruptly asked, his voice hard as he spoke. He turned on his hooves to face the princess. "What do you want to hear? How many ponies I've seen bleed and die? How I listened to their screams almost daily? How many times I could have died, lost and alone in some foreign land with nopony to care? Or maybe how I've killed more griffons in one day than most ponies see in their lifetime?"
Princess Cadance looked at the soldier, sympathy swallowing her deep purple eyes out of pity. "I want to hear how you're feeling, Sergeant."
"Why? What good would that do you?" he snapped, not sure what was going on or how to handle the sudden onslaught of feelings.
"Me? Probably none," she answered in earnest, a soft smile touching her lips as she returned to stand before him. "But it's already doing you good."
She lifted a tender hoof and pressed it to his cheek, wiping something away. Fleethoof blinked in surprise and saw the glistening moisture on her hoof. He was... crying? He was crying. He hadn't even noticed it.
"You don't have to keep your emotions locked away, Fleethoof... Being a soldier doesn't mean you can't feel... Sometimes all you need is somepony to let them out to..." Cadance spoke, her soft, mellifluous voice breaking through the hardened shell to Fleethoof's heart. With a smile, she turned and walked away.
Fleethoof counted her steps as she left him. He stared after her while she disappeared below deck. Talking with her had brought up a strange mix of emotions. Relief. Sorrow. Anger. Pain. His heart ached and his soul felt heavy. Cadance had gotten underneath his armor, seeing past the façade he had put on and breaking the bottle he had put his emotions in. How she had done that with such ease baffled the stallion.
Facing out over the railing again, Fleethoof stared up at the celestial heavens and let the memories come over him again. For the first time in a long while, let the emotions out. The brushes with death, seeing so many ponies die in horrific ways, watching families torn apart on both sides… He didn’t feel the tears as they ran down his face, lost as they fell into the endless black sea.
Journal,
We rescued the hostages from Skyfall and are sailing back to Equestria as I write. Princess Cadance and Prince Blueblood were the captives, along with Captain Cuirass. Our mission was accomplished successfully with minimal casualties. I suppose that counts as a victory.
But for me, this was a mixture of triumph and loss. Every pony lost is a tragedy in itself, but this one hit me closer to home than most. Forgive my hoofwriting and the tearstains, Journal… I found the body of Steel Shield in Skyfall. The griffons had killed him without prejudice and without mercy. They took a bright, beautiful life from this world without leaving a shred of dignity. I’ve never felt angrier in my entire life. I’m heartbroken, Journal… You know how close Steel Shield and I were. It feels like a physical part of my past died along with him. I don’t know how to handle this…
Valiant was wounded badly in the line of duty. He fought bravely as we were casting off under heavy enemy fire. He saved my life—again—and took a bullet that probably should have killed me. I could only watch as he writhed and screamed in pain while the medic tried to save him. I pray he makes it through the trip back to Equestria so we can get him to a doctor. If I lose another pony close to me, Journal, I’ll just lose it. I’ll just… I don’t know what I’ll do.
Princess Cadance spoke with me tonight. I think she tried to comfort me. It helped—sort of. It made me feel… weird. I’m not used to being able to talk openly about how I’m feeling or anything like that. It just doesn’t seem like something a Royal Guard would do. We're supposed to be rocks. But she broke me so easily. She brought out all the emotions I didn't realize I'd kept locked away with only a few words. I don’t understand how she did it. I guess it’s her magic or her talent, dealing with the matters of love and the heart and such. I don’t really know.
I’m not sure what the future holds in store for me now, Journal. I don’t know if I’ll remain in Equestria and this might be your final entry, or if they’ll send me back into the fray. I guess we’ll have to wait and see when I deliver the royals back to Canterlot in one piece... although if Blueblood whines one more time or calls me a peasant again, it might be more like two pieces, or four, or a dozen. Ungrateful brat… But nopony said this job was going to be easy.
I'm ready for this to be over. I never asked for this. I wanted to do something good for my nation, but... this is too much. I'm tired, Journal—so tired. I’m off to get some sleep now. It’s been too long since I could sleep without worrying I’ll be killed.
Goodnight, Journal.