The young stallion held his helmet in his hooves, staring at it. It was a boiled leather helmet, with a longer piece on the back to protect his neck, and a long piece of metal that would go down his muzzle when he put it on. It matched the rest of the suit of armor that he was currently wearing, more boiled leather with several pieces of metal on vital spots like joints, ribs, and his spine. He slipped it onto his head as he looked around the rest of the camp. Ponies walked to and fro, gathering into companies and marching to the front under the orders of their captains. Spears and pikes and halberds pointed upwards in a forest of steel and wood, banners flapped in what little breeze there was, and unicorns ran back to the edge of the forest, quivers of metal shafts bouncing against their flanks. The few Prancer knights that Watchover and any of the surrounding lords had been able to spare formed up into a line and cantered to the front, their plate armor shimmering dully in the grey morning light. It was overcast; clouds covered the sky, but didn’t threaten rain. The stallion sighed and leaned back against the tree he had been sitting against, thinking back to how the entire war had gotten started. He only knew what he had been told; fortunately, some of the higher-up ponies had loose tongues.
Prance had been invaded by the Griffin Kingdoms only a few days ago. Before being overrun one of the border forts had managed to get a message to the city of Watchover, a fortress town that was directly in the griffin’s path. The city had assembled an army as quickly as it could, and had eventually managed to draw together eighteen thousand ponies from various parts of the province. At the moment the army sat on the borders of the forest that separated the rolling plains of the border territory from Watchover itself. The city was still visible, located on a high cliff with its walls and the Prancer flag visible even from a distance.
The army had been here for three days, awaiting the griffins’ arrival. Pegasus scouts had been able to track the griffin’s approach, and they were still making straight for Watchover. Privately, the stallion wondered if they even knew that an army awaited them before the city proper. Prance was no stranger to war; since its founding several thousand years ago Prance had fought several long, brutal wars against the neighboring country of Germaneigh, and other nations besides. As such, many cities were able to call in armies from the surrounding countryside in case extra hooves were needed for defense. As one of the largest cities, Watchover could field this army, as well as keep another inside the walls themselves.
“Sandstone!” a pegasus called as he flew down from the grey sky and landed next to the earth pony. “Your captain’s calling your company together. Forward scouts say that the griffins are forming up in battle array on the other side of the plains.”
“Right,” Sandstone replied, standing up and picking up his spear, fastening it to his harness in the vertical attention position. “Thanks, Gale.”
The sky-blue pegasus nodded, lightly punching the earth pony on the shoulder with a hoof. “See you after we’ve won, eh?”
Sandstone smiled and returned the punch. “Yeah. Good luck.”
“You too,” Gale replied as he took off again, going off to join the other pegasi that would be engaging any air forces that the griffins had. Sandstone kept walking to where his captain had told them to meet when the time came. As he walked, he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and stopped to get a better look. Sandstone was a light-colored stallion, with a sandy white mane and light-colored coat that complemented his deep blue eyes. His cutie mark, a blacksmith’s hammer, was obscured by his armor, which covered his back and most of his hindquarters, along with his forelegs, chest, underbelly, and sides.
“Company, form up!” a voice with the strength and volume only an experienced officer could provide yelled over the general confusion of the camp. Sandstone recognized his captain’s voice and galloped around the throngs of tents and ponies until he had reached the mustering grounds. Various other groups of ponies were there, either forming up or marching out to take up their positions with the rest of the army. His company was still getting together, a small number of other ponies trotting in from all over to report in. The captain, a steel-gray unicorn named Phalanx, looked over the hundred ponies in his command as the last few of them fell in with the rest. “As all of you undoubtedly know, the griffins have arrived on the other side of this plain and are forming up in battle array as we speak. We are doing likewise. This army is the only thing standing between the griffins and Watchover itself. I trust that you will all do your duty to Prance in making sure that the enemy does not intrude any further into our nation’s land! Fight, and die if necessary! Do not falter in your convictions! Ours is the nobler goal!”
With his speech done, he turned. “Company, by your left! MARCH!”
With that the hundred ponies began to march out of the camp, heading towards the battle line that was being drawn up around a hundred yards away. Sandstone looked around as he marched with his fellows, taking in the companies of ponies-at-arms, Watchover’s knights, the Brotherhood of the Watchtower, as well as the squadrons of pegasi hovering overhead. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing the unicorn skirmishers forming up into a ragged line in the woods. Ballistae were moved into position behind the main body of the army, rolled into place among redoubts of piled earth, wooden stakes, and bales of straw. Large harpoons were loaded onto them, ponies turning the wheels at the rear of the devices to increase torsion as they prepared the weapons to fire.
As the company halted among the battle lines of the rest of the army, Sandstone swallowed and turned his gaze forward. He could hear dogs barking and the shouts of orders being given. Very faintly he could see the black-and-white banners of the Griffin Kingdoms, the white three-toed claw on black. He licked his lips and turned to look behind him, at one of the many standards of Prance that hung in the breeze. It depicted a pegasus, wings outstretched with front and back legs pointing forward and backward respectively, inside a circle. The pegasus and circle were colored pure white, the field a royal blue. Sandstone turned back and spotted other banners; Watchover’s flag, the black compass rose on a silver field. The Brotherhood’s standard, a tower standing on the top of a mountain.
Sandstone felt his breathing slow as he took comfort in the banners. He could hear marching now. The griffins were coming.
***
Chapter Master West Wind had been given command of the army by the Viscount of Watchover, and with good reason. West Wind had never lost a battle that he had commanded, and was well-loved among his troops. He had charisma, patience, and had never backed down from a challenge.The earth pony knight was grizzled with age, his chocolate brown muzzle turning steadily more silver with each passing year. Despite this, his grey eyes were as sharp and clear as ever, and well-toned muscles were evident beneath his coat. His cutie mark, a kite shield overlapped by a pair of crossed swords, was as visible as it had been when he had first gotten it. Even so, the Chapter Master sighed as his attendant picked up his armor and floated it over to him. West Wind looked at him. “What’s the situation outside, Pauldron?”
“The griffin army is on the move, my lord,” Pauldron replied, the armor he had been levitating
spreading out and rotating around West Wind as he began dressing his lord. “There are around twenty-four thousand of them. They’re drawn up in battle array and marching towards us.”
West Wind nodded as Pauldron slipped his chest piece over his head, buckling the armor together to cover his back, rear, and stomach. “It has begun, then.” He remained silent as Pauldron continued fitting his armor to him, the grey plates settling their familiar weight on his body. Finally, all was ready. His lance, hoof sword, and shield were all buckled on, his helmet fixed upon his head. With the armoring done he galloped out of his tent, Pauldron following behind him as the Chapter Master ran through camp and up to the front of the line. As they rode they were joined by a number of other knights, more impressively liveried than the ordinary Knights of the Watchtower. These ponies were large and muscular, their armor colored silver and blue. They were the Chapter Master’s bodyguard, sworn to protect him in battle at all costs, even their lives. The army cheered as they saw him, West Wind riding the length of the line before turning back and riding up to a small hillock in front of the main army. He turned to them.
“Soldiers of Prance!” he shouted, his voice reaching every ear. “You all know that our nation is no stranger to war! For millennia we have fought Germaneigh, Canida, and any other country that dared to invade us! Throughout all of those wars, we have remained strong and immovable! True and steadfast! We have defeated all comers, even at the cost of our own lives! And now, we are ready to do so again!”
He had to pause for a moment to allow the cheering to subside. With a slash of his hoof he threw out his sword, pointing it towards the griffin host. “There stands the enemy! A ragtag mob of buzzards and mutts! They may outnumber us, but we have something worthy of fighting for! We fight for our homes, our families, and indeed our very way of life! We owe allegiance to one pony and one pony only! Our great and noble king Shining Star! Even if we are conquered, we will not pay homage to King Aeris, even if he brings the greatest storm that the world has ever seen down upon us! We will never surrender, and never give up!”
Another pause for cheering. West Wind planted his sword in the ground and turned back to his army. “I know that some of you are frightened. Perhaps all of you are! There is no shame in feeling fear, only in letting fear rule you! Try not to look scared and you will find bravery in your heart!”
The army burst into cheers again. Among the ponies-at-arms Sandstone felt his heart soar with hope, an infectious grin coming over his face as he roared his approval with the rest of the Prancer soldiers. Weapons clashed on shields and hooves stamped the earth, the army’s cheers shaking the trees behind them. Even the sky seemed to celebrate with them, a patch of sunlight peeking through a gap in the clouds to shine down on West Wind as he pulled his sword from the earth and raised it into the sky as he turned to face the enemy, the entire army tensing behind him. Everything seemed to go still. Both armies stood several hundred yards away from one another, waiting and watching. Dogs growled low in their throats as drool dripped from their teeth, griffins drawing their weapons and holding them in readiness. Ponies pawed the ground with their hooves and snorted nervously. Somewhere along the line, Sandstone heard a nicker.
Finally, West Wind lowered his sword. A great roar went up from the Prancer army as they charged forward, a huge screaming mass of ponies and iron and wood and muscle. The ground seemed to shake with the fury of their charge, dirt clods flying into the air from the beating of hooves. The griffin army charged as well, the dogs bounding forward with snarls and barks, saliva flying from their jaws in long trails as they pounded towards the Prancers. West Wind leapt off of his rock, followed closely by Pauldron and his bodyguards, their voices ripping from their throats to join the cries of their army. Pegasi shot forward overhead, wings pumping as they propelled themselves towards their opposite number. A hissing noise filled the air over the screams of the two armies as the metal arrows of the unicorn skirmishers shot through the sky. Griffins and dogs dropped by the score, tripping up more of their number as the unlucky souls went down, many pierced with multiple shafts. Ballistae opened fire as well, sending harpoon-sized spears flying into the sky. Pierced by the massive projectiles, griffins dropped from the air and into the charging mass to be trampled underfoot by their fellows in their heedless onrush.
Lances were lowered.
Swords were drawn.
Shields were brought to bear.
***
Sandstone’s company had become spread out in the charge, now merely part of the onrushing mob surging across the plains toward the griffin army. He was in the front row, his spear lowered, his hooves pounding the earth as he galloped ever closer.
The two armies collided in a screaming crash of fur, muscle, armor, and weapons. Some soldiers were thrown over the backs of their opponents, landing on the ground behind them to be finished off by others. Many were killed in the first instant of the battle, being gored on spears or leapt upon to have their throats torn out. Others managed to fight their way through enemy lines for a short while before being overwhelmed. The battle quickly descended into a chaotic mess, blood flying into the air, soaking the earth, the ground being churned up by hooves and paws. Weapons flashed, stabbed, and cut. The corpses of pegasi and griffins dropped to the earth in droves as the two aerial elements clashed. Screams, cries, and roars filled the air along with the sounds of clashing steel.
Sandstone had already fought his way through three dogs. In the initial clash of forces he had buried his spear in the chest of one, not only forcing the weapon out of its back but also snapping the haft, leaving him with a useless stick. Partially useless though; after he had gotten it out of its saddle and into his mouth it made an ideal club. He had cut down two other enemies with his sword, one a dog, the other a griffin. He watched ponies around him cut down by the savage strokes of weaponry, saw a griffin speared in the back and fall to his knees, then flat on his face as his red-crested helmet rolled off his head. He saw West Wind carving a swathe of blood and death through the enemy horde, his bodyguard fighting around him. He looked up and saw Gale held in a full nelson by a griffin soldier, struggling to get free before another came in and sank a sword into the pegasus’s chest. He saw Captain Phalanx form a schiltrom with a number of his company, the ponies forming what amounted to a turtle shell with spears pointing out of it as they cut and slashed their way through the battle. They managed to get about ten feet before a sudden charge of dogs broke their formation, scattering the schiltrom like ashes in the wind. Captain Phalanx cut every which way with his sword, but Sandstone saw him go down under the weight of sheer numbers, blades in the paws of dogs rising and falling as they piled on top of the unicorn.
A battle cry put his focus back on the battle, the sandy-coated earth pony spinning to parry the downward slash of a griffin. The griffin backfisted him across the face, Sandstone’s helmet flying off with the motion. He turned, the griffin bringing his sword up in an upward diagonal slash as Sandstone stabbed for his face. Both of them screamed at one another, their voices lost in the cacophony of war.