//------------------------------// // Chapter 26; The failures of the nobility // Story: The War of 1002 // by Fireheart 1945 //------------------------------// Lord Grimbald looked down his beak at the regiment he lead. The brown and green-coated troops chatted away, mostly in peasant accents. It was really boring to listen to the various subjects, such as the price of food and clothing, how many fish swam in the rivers, et cetera. In his opinion, their discussions weren't worth listening to anyway; as a member of the nobility, he cared very little for the lower classes. In his clan, the Silverbacks (so-called because of the traditional silver stripes painted on the backs of every Griffon in the clan, with the elite having the most complex, of course), the aristocracy ruled; peasants were generally beneath their notice. He noted the fear in which most of them regarded him with; fear was good in the lower classes, as it prevented ridiculous things such as revolts and rebellions. "Lord Grimbald!" a soldier called. He turned to his right; it was a sergeant, about as high as a peasant could rise in this clan's ranks. Clearly, whatever he had to say was important; the lowly rarely tried to give their superiors reasons to punish them. He sighed. "Yes, soldier, what is it? "Pony soldiers have cut our lines of supply again," the sergeant said worriedly, "we won't be receiving any more for some time." Grimbald felt angry; again, the peasant class had failed. It never crossed his mind that the aristocracy might be responsible for the catastrophe. "So send some boys to go clear them away." "We've tried that already, my Lord, but they come back the moment we leave." "Then I expect you to maintain a constant watch on our supply lines." With a wave of his claw, he sent the soldier away. Too ingrained to subservience to disobey a member of the nobility, the sergeant left. All things considered, it could have been worse, he thought as the march continued. Although rebel ponies and raiders kept stealing wagons and food, the clan elders made sure that the elite always received their goods, one way or another. After a while, his claws began to tire of the march. It was time to call for a break. The troops sighed in relief and started to pull out packs of bread and canteens full of water. Grimbald scoffed - the halt wasn't for their sake - but he let them do as they pleased. He sat down and called for his servant, who answered at once; moments later, comforting wine and cheese were going over his tongue and down his throat. It was all too good to last. As he lifted another glass of wine, the glass was shattered by something that zipped by. Another fast-moving object slammed into a soldier nearby, who collapsed immediately. It took his brain a minute to determine what the thing was; an arrow. Cries of "Ponies!" and "Equestrians!" rang through the forest. More Silverbacks were cut down as they tried to claim their weapons, and more scrambled for whatever cover they thought was sufficient to hide them. Grimbald got up - rather more slowly than the would have normally, no doubt a result of the wine - and waved his sword. "Come on, you filth-eating mongers, get up and fight!" he shouted. Another arrow passed by his head, but he ignored it. Some of his soldiers obeyed. Many were shot as they reached for their weapons, but at least some of them were able to reach their crossbows and swords in time. What was more alarming was the fact hat many Griffons acted as if they had never heard his order; they kept trying to hide or find cover, their instinct to survive overpowering their loyalty to their leaders. He walked over to one of these and slapped him full across the face; the soldier fell flat on his back, a look of utter shock on his features. "Get up and fight, coward!" he yelled, his face inches from that of the peasant. "Or I'll have you whipped over a rack!" That threat wasn't completely sincere; torture was not a practice the Griffon clans followed. Still, he made it obvious that something horrible would happen to the soldier if he disobeyed. Something rammed into the back of Grimbald's neck; he cried out in pain as he fell forward, trying to reach over and pull out the quarrel. "Help me, soldier!" he ordered. The soldier looked him in the face... then ran, scrambling in the opposite direction. Grimbald tried to cry out, but he had practically no strength by then. As he looked, his unit broke apart, fleeing in whatever direction their feet and wings could carry them. His strength ebbed; his head fell to the ground. Then he never saw anything in this life ever again. ---------------------------------------------------------- James began to warm his hands in the fireplace; unlike his soldiers, the appendages on the end of his arms could feel, and up till now they had been cold. The orange flames warmed him, dissolving the cold. Most of his troops had quarters similar to his own by now. The fort had really expanded since it's capture; wooden walls had been replaced by earth and stone, and cannons aplenty stood on it's walls. Another wall was being constructed outward of the first one. When it finished, the fort would be able to withstand a siege from any force he had yet fought. The sounds of drill sergeants caught his ears; with a natural coat of fur, ponies were able to operate in colder climes more readily than he could, and they proceeded to do so. Shouts of "Left, right" and "About face!" were ever more common. Winter was already more than half over; a proper campaign could be under taken soon enough. James knew his army was ready for the battles to come. He paused to remember how Christmas Eve and Christmas day had passed... -------------------------------------------------------------------- He stood outside, looking over the camp; even in these conditions, many of them were celebrating Hearth's Warming's Eve. Earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi alike drank cider and sang carols; some danced in various ways, with the occasional mistake and fall, with the accompanying laughs making it all better. James dipped his head. Christmas was clearly unknown here. While some decorations had been placed around the base, a Christmas tree was not to be found. Snow continued to fall from the sky, making a beautiful white blanket upon the ground. He walked away from his cabin and walked around the base, watching and listening to the festivities. It was all so familiar, and yet so far. On the day of the year when people were supposed to be closest to their loved ones, he was worlds, no, a universe, away from any of them. A tear slipped from his eye, ran down his cheek and fell into the snow. He missed them all so much... Homesick and discontent, he made his way back to his cabin. He couldn't bear to watch the celebrations, not when he was on the verge of breakdown. He opened the door, went through it, and shut it, locking it with a key. A light in the corner of the one-room dwelling caught his eye. He turned... and there, standing tall, draped in lights and glass ornaments, with a star cresting it's peak, was the most magnificent Christmas tree he had ever seen. Under it's evergreen branches stood Bright Star, Sliver Lining, Blue Fur, White Knight, and Silver Shield. In one voice, they cried out, "Merry Christmas!" as loud as they could. Crying tears of joy, James ran forward, knelt, and embraced them in a bear hug. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Even now, it almost brought a tear to his eye. They had constructed the whole thing from his books, which they had "borrowed" for the plan. At least he had people - or ponies - who cared about him here, even if he was disconnected and apart from his family. Slowly wrenching himself away from those pleasant thoughts, he went through the winter campaign in his head; in many cases, the Griffons were starving, hungry enough to eat twigs, and many of them were doing so. Other encampments had to endure raids of such frequency that they were too afraid to leave their bases, fearful of being caught in ambushes. And he had done all this with a force of equal size to their own. Some Griffons, caught alone in the woods, surrendered without a fight; some were all too eager to do so, as some of them knew that they could at least fill their bellies as prisoners, whereas others were disgusted that some of their officers - mostly those from the nobility and aristocracy - always had luxury food and drink while the common soldier went hungry. But he couldn't count on winter staying forever; it wouldn't, and before long spring would come. From the newspapers in Trottingham, many towns were already making plans for Winter Wrap-up. He walked over to the fireplace and put another long on the fire; for good measure, he threw a few pieces of newspaper on it as well to help the blaze spread. Much of what was in there about the war was so exaggerated or so heroically inflated that he found it more funny than serious. Surely it wasn't serious enough to stop him from putting a few pieces of it on the fire? As he sat back down in the rickety wooden chair, there was a knock at the door. Slightly irritated, he nonetheless got up, walked over to the door, unlocked, it, and turned the handle. At first, a crown of gold and a pair of golden shoes seemed to stand alone against the snow. Then he caught sight of the soft, rainbow-colored mane and lovely smile. "Ah, your Highness." Celestia's smile was almost enough to evaporate the cold. Almost. "I'm fine with just 'Celestia' from my friends, James," she responded. "May I please come inside?" "Not like I could stop you, now could I?" It was true; Celestia had come with a pair of golden-armored Guards. He stepped to the side before she could reply and allowed her to pass. "Be forewarned," he went on, "it's not going to be all that much warmer inside than out." "I've been through worse." She pulled up a seat with her magic and sat down; James followed suit, watching the Guards as he did so. "Don't worry, sir," one of them said, "just think of us as furniture."* Big, armored sets of furniture. "How goes the war?" Celestia asked, her smile fading. "It's going well," James said, not without some confidence. "We managed to stop them from advancing, and we've cut their lines of supply; they couldn't move forward if they wanted to. The troops have done everything they could under the conditions, and they have done more than I expected." He took a moment to reflect on how military speech was so often bloodless. An advance could refer to a game of football or a battlefield. Unfortunately, on a football field people weren't trying to kill you, not unless you deliberately angered an opposing player (and how many times had that actually come to bloodshed?). On a battlefield, bullets and shells flew, all looking to hit someone's all too valuable person and end it. From the look on Celestia's face, she understood that as well as he did. "That's the most I could expect, I suppose." She took a look at the map. X's marked ambush sites and raids. Only a handful were red; disasters and scenes of heavy Equestrian casualties; most were blue, sites where the ponies had been successful in their endeavors. "Here is where their starting point was," James said, pointing to an area inside the nearest Griffon borders. "From there, they progressed southwestwards in a compact group, until we defeated their vanguard here." His right index finger came to rest on the place where the first battle against the Griffons had been fought, and where General Hawkfrost had challenged him... challenged him and died. "After their loss, they split into four columns, one of which we ambushed, and where we found an enemy prototype cannon, which we sent to research and development. We found another column of enemy troops making camp where this base is now sited, and took the fort with minimal losses. Since then, we've restricted our campaign largely to raiding them and ambushing them when they try to advance." He pointed to the two major Griffon camps. "As you can see, they've gained no significant stretches of territory during the winter fighting." Celestia looked at the map a minute longer, then nodded, appearing satisfied. "Very good. I'm proud of the armies of Equestria and their leaders." She looked up. "I'm sure you want to know a little about Rand." "Yes; I have been wondering how he's been faring, under your care." "He's doing fine; he was very scared at first, but after the first few days he relaxed, and we're getting along just fine." "I hope he hasn't faced the... excessive rascism at the palace that he has in this army." "My Guards are well trained enough to not let such petty concerns show while they are on duty." James nodded. "That's good. I don't relish having to destroy every last Changeling, or, by destroying their queen, removing their will to live. I'm hoping that we can find a solution and give them freedom." "That is my hope as well." Celestia smiled once more. "I have good news for you as well, General." "Gen... Celestia, I'm a Col..." He stopped as he realized what had just happened. "So I'm a Brigadier, now?" "I believe that is the proper rank, yes." James got up and bowed. "My thanks." Celestia smiled again. "The pleasure is all mine." Then as he sat down, she went on, "The training camp is now home to tens of thousands of soon-to-be soldiers; they will be joining you in the early spring." James sat up. "How many?" "Considering the numbers we now have in the field, as well as those in training, I'd say we'll have fifty thousand soldiers in the army all together." James felt like celebrating. If I hadn't promised God I would never drink alcohol, I'd probably get everyone in this room a cold one right now. He let out a rebel yell instead, waving his hat in the air. Celestia watched happily until he calmed down. Then her smile disappeared. "I also have news that you won't like so much." "Whatever it is, I doubt it could dampen my spirits." Celestia proceeded to prove him wrong; "Prince Blueblood had demanded that he be given a rank in the army and given a command." "Uh, what?" "I think you heard me." "Yeah, I heard ya." James felt his good mood evaporate. "You... you didn't take him... seriously, did you?" Celestia raised an eyebrow. "I gave him the rank. He will be joining you and Shining Armor once the snow clears up." Aw, what the fuck? James cleared his throat. "Ma'am, I think that was a terrible idea, if you'll pardon my opinion. He can't even treat a lady right, never mind a soldier. You didn't see the way he treated Rarity at the Gala, did you?" She frowned. "I'd heard of it, yes. I forget sometimes that you had... connections with our world before I summoned you here." For a moment, she lifted her head so that she was looking at the ceiling. "It was hardly a decision I could refuse," she said at last, bringing her head down. "He offered us a substantial amount of money toward our research and development projects in return for a Generalship; the sum is more than I am willing to say here. Think of what we could - will - do with that." "I am, and it's not really making up for putting a prissy illegitimate rat in place of a General." Celestia gave him a withering look. "He is my nephew, and will not be spoken of that way... not even by you." Damn, there goes the promotion. "I'll admit he has a... less likable side to him," the Princess went on, "and you are not the first to raise such scruples. But I assure you, he will behave himself." Right, like how a cat behaves when someone tries to give it a bath. "Yes, well, sorry about that. I'll hold him to that promise." The anger drained from Celestia's face. "I'm sure he won't be the trouble that you predict he will be," she said, smiling again. "And I'll be checking in on him every now and then, to make sure." "Alright, then, good seeing you again, Princess." "Likewise, General; I hope to see you soon." "Hopefully we'll hold Gryphos by then." The Princess smiled, then motioned to her Guards to follow her. They left the cabin, leaving the newly-made General to his own thoughts. Blueblood, Princy Blueblood, as a fuckin' General!?! What is the world coming to? ------------------------------------------------------------- *Note; another quote I borrowed from Harry Turtledove. I thought it fit here.