Amid a ruin of burnt tents, broken buildings and shattered corpses, Shining Armor sat miserably in the staff tent. He had a quill poised in his magical aura, and a blank sheet of parchment sat on the camp table in front of him. With a battle fought, he needed to write the despatch to be sent back to Canterlot. But what did one say about a day like this? He had been sat there motionless for over an hour.
Ration Bag had delivered the final figures to him, and looking at those alone, he had won a decent victory: his un-blooded army had driven the enemy from the field with the power of artillery and the threat of flanking. The Intelligence Department had swept the battlefield and counted the corpses of three hundred Changelings, out of five thousand troops in the legion. For that, the Royal Army had taken only one casualty, Major Rolling Thunder, whose hoof had been crushed by a cannon wheel when he’d ordered his guns forward.
Thunder was to be invalided home, which was probably a good thing, since a pony with his mental state was clearly unfit to serve Equestria in any capacity whatsoever. Shining Armor had tried to tell himself that it was a beginner’s nerves taking over, but nopony else had snapped and attacked early. He doubted anypony would ever find out what had exactly happened in front of No. 3 Battery that morning, but what was done was done: the enemy had escaped, and his hopes of a stealthy advance were in tatters.
How was he supposed to report that to Equestria? If the public knew that their first victory had ended in strategic failure, support for the war, already delicate, would plummet. Confidence in Celestia would be shattered. And Radical Road and Blueblood would suddenly get a much larger audience.
He put his head in his hooves, thinking hard. Then thoughts began to coalesce in his head. He frowned and fumbled through the papers on his desk before he found the one he needed. Yes, the Royal Artillery had a peak strength of 5,400 ponies, but 3,328 of those were its logistics train. It had only really been the batteries – 2,112 ponies – that had really engaged the Changelings. And Neigh’s division, though they’d arrived on the battlefield, had never fired a shot, so they hadn’t really taken part either...
Shining Armor quickly dipped his quill into the inkwell and began to write. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was wrong, but Equestria needed a great victory, and 5,000 Changelings being chased off the field by an enemy with less than half their numbers was a great victory.
Valneigh,
18th June 1004.
Your Highnesses,
I have the honour to submit the following report on the operations of the Forces under my Command...
***
“CASAM?” asked Inkie Pie.
“No casualties, twenty-two rounds fired,” said Sergeant Brass Barrel.
Inkie scribbled a note. Behind Brass Barrel, Gunner Powder Smoke grunted as he shoved a ramrod down the cannon barrel, twisting it so the worm screwed to the end would loosen the stinking black mass of powder residue that clogged the barrel. Gunner Quick Bolt scrubbed at the touchhole with a wire brush. Powder Smoke unscrewed the worm attachment and replaced it with an oil-soaked rag, which he ran down the barrel. It came out black as night.
“Thank you, Sergeant. Good job today,” said Inkie. She walked off doing a few mental sums. Every one of her guns had fired off between twenty and thirty rounds, out of an ammunition allocation of eighty-four rounds each.
She tore a page out of her notebook and passed it to Lieutenant Star Wing. “We’re short a hundred and eighty-four rounds. Take the Buffalos up to the train and grab us some ammo and fresh water.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
Star Wing fluttered off. Inkie stood there for a moment, at a loss for what to do. She’d made sure her troops had cleaned out their guns, and she could see the flames of cookfires starting to leap up, so they would be well-fed before bunking down. She sniffed and gave a grunt. They were at the base of the hill downwind of Valneigh, and the faint reek of shattered Changeling corpses was being wafted towards them. No one had ever mentioned the smell.
She wasn’t sure what to feel. She thought that she should feel elated, cheering with her soldiers at the victory and perhaps taking a swig from an illicit bottle of cider to celebrate. That was what the movies and books always said. Her ponies had performed as well as she had expected and she had congratulated all of them. But everypony knew that the victory was hollow. The Changelings had escaped, and even though they’d won, they had really lost.
She sighed and shrugged off her saddlebags, preparing to put her tent up. She didn’t feel very hungry.
***
“My Lords and Commons,” Celestia proclaimed. “We have the honour to announce to you that on the eighteenth of June, our army in the Lynx Territories won its first victory against the Changelings.”
The House of Lords Chamber thronged with ponies. Peers in their brilliant-scarlet robes of state, shining gold coronets on their heads, packed the red-upholstered benches. MPs that had filed through from the Commons Chamber watched from the Bar of the House, just inside the Chamber door. The Strangers’ Gallery was lined with media ponies, correspondents, and ordinary ponies, many of whom doubtless had friends or family in the army.
Blueblood stood at the front of the crowd of MPs, listening intently. There had been some cheers at the news of the victory, a few boos, but most were silent. He felt Radical Road move closer to him to whisper something, but he put out a hoof to stop him. He needed to concentrate to this.
Celestia and Luna sat at the thrones at the end of the Chamber. If Celestia had spotted Blueblood, she gave no sign of it, and kept reading.
“Our Royal Artillery, some two thousand ponies, engaged a Changeling force of five thousand and drove them from the field with cannon fire outside the ruined village of Valneigh. We are relieved to announce that none of our soldiers died in this action. The Royal Artillery is to be commended for this action and does great credit to our new army. It is our wish that the Cannonade of Valneigh be celebrated with a public holiday...”
Blueblood had heard enough. He leaned close to Radical Road. “Rather lacking in details, don’t you think?”
Radical Road looked miserable. “I’m not a military pony. All I get from this is that they won a battle. That’s not good for us.”
Blueblood looked up as Celestia finished her speech. The response from the galleries and benches could be described as decidedly mixed. The Commons members slowly began to file out and into the lobby. Blueblood and Radical Road went with the crowd.
“There are degrees of victory,” Blueblood said. “Winning one battle won’t change the fact that most ponies don’t want this war. In any case, I strongly doubt that this victory is as complete as Celestia claims, or rather, doesn’t claim. How many casualties did the Changelings suffer? She sees fit not to tell us. One cannot win a battle with artillery alone.”
Radical Road frowned. “When did you become a gunnery expert?”
“Why, since the proofing tests from the guns forged by my companies arrived on my desk, of course.”
“You’re certain that they can’t be traced back to us?”
Blueblood allowed himself a small smile. He had years of experience with corporate loopholes. “I assure you, it is impossible for the front companies to be associated with me in any way. Now, we need to find out what exactly happened at Valneigh. I’ll see Newsprint tomorrow and have him send a correspondent down there. If that fails, I’m sure he more illicit methods of getting information...”