"Ah second Terence! Ah would do everythin' Ah' can ta stop mah farm from gettin' ravaged by them consarned greenskins!" Applejack stomped a forehoof hard on the ground.
"The Orcs must be stopped." Nodded Twilight Sparkle. She stood up. "Ralf and Terence, you two are soldiers, throughout this tumultous period and chaotic future, will you give freely your knowledge and experience of warfare?"
"Certainly." Ralf stood up. "Arrrows! Get the town blacksmith to craft arrows and coats of mail for levy troops! This town has to be garrisoned with militia if we want every soldier for the war effort!"
"Weapons!" Terence added. "The heavier the better! Broadswords, pollaxes, greatswords, flails, maces, crow's beaks! The Orcs are a tough bunch!" The orcish infantry wore little or no armour, save for their superiors, but their soldiers could shake off a flail blow at full swing to the head. The heavier the weapon, the more anti-orc it was. The spear-throwers too, had shocked Terence. an orcish spear-throwers, or 'headhunters' could send a sharpened steel tipped spear ripping through armour, muscle and bone and skewering up to four Equestrian warriors at once. He shuddered at the thought.
*******************************************************************************************************************
By the next morning the town blacksmith's yard was draped with mail coats and an array of weapons. Shields shone while hanging from the outer walls while newly-forged dangled from hooks. Ralf and the Cutie Mark Crusaders helped the blacksmiths carry out a fresh batch of helmets outside for distribution. The head blacksmith, confident of pony abilities, had also manufactured a few dozen hoof-spanned crossbows under the guidance of Ralf. who had seized a few crossbows back in Soissons and had examined their unique and seemingly effective mechanisms. Most Earth Ponies had more strength than even Milanese chevaliers, making both windlass and hook-belt obsolete. But few neared or even matched the immense bow-given strength of an English archer, which Ralf displayed by carrying twenty crossbows in one arm. He placed the crossbows on the ground before going in for a couple more.
"That's enough for now, Englishmen, there's a funeral service about to start. Let us go and pay respects to the brave and unfortunately less well armoured citizens and soldiers who have died defending Ponyville." The head blacksmith wiped his greasy hooves on his apron and waved Ralf and the CmCs toward the town square.
A mare with a coat of deep gray brushed her jet black mane over her shoulder and picked up what Ralf inferred was a giant vielle or hurdy-gurdy. She batted her soft beautiful purple eyes and the archer and blew the archer a kiss. The pious Englishman immediately crossed himself and tore his gaze from the musician. She teasingly shook her head before picking up her 'bow'. She played the giant vielle, dragging the bowstring back and forth on the vielle's thick strings, creating a soft and mournful trailing sound that touched even the most stoic and emotionless of stallions. Many gathered Ponyville residents began to weep. The solemness settled like a thick fog, nopony spoke. Ralf crossed himself once again and began to pray for the brave and steadfast but unfortunate civilians and stallions-at-arms killed in the fierce fighting just two days ago.