//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7: War of Nations  
// Story: The Return 
// by John 117 
//------------------------------//

	The two Spartans were walking down the hall when the first explosion went off. Marcus stopped and looked at Emilia, who only stood still. He grabbed his shotgun and looked around, and saw flames outside of the caste. They were spreading, and the sounds of battle and war could be heard rising outside. The castle was under attack.

“Emilia...what’s going on..?” he said, looking behind him to her. She barely clenched her jaw, not looking at him. She grabbed her weapons slowly, then threw them on the ground.

“I was going to warn you, but they didn't give me enough time. They knew.” Marcus looked at her confused, then pieced it together slowly. HE looked at her hard, and nodded. He put on his helmet as guards rushed the duo. Marcus did not stop them or raise his weapons. He took EMilia’s off the ground.

“Guards, she won't resist. Take her into the custody and have a small watch on her, then get back to your posts and fight off the griffons; we need everypony in this fight.” They nodded to him and 4 guards took her away as others rushed off to the walls of the castle. Marcus started to walk back towards the castle entrance, then slowly began a jog that turned into a full run. He sprinted down the hall, and found the gates burning. He skirted around, trying to find an exit to the outside. He could hear the clash of swords on metal with the yells to arms and the screams of the dying. 

He turned another corner, but stopped in his tracks. A small force of griffons had cornered a squad of guards. Marcus took out his SMG’s and charged, ramming his shoulder into the closet grifon while swinging  his two bullet hoses to the side to face more griffons. He pulled back on the trigger, and released round after round into their bodies; they jerked around like rag dolls on strings as the bullets tore holes into them. Marcus turned, and received a spear to the chest plate. It stopped dead center, bent down and broken like an arm. Marcus followed the spear  tip, or what was left of it, to the holder and just shook his head. He brought back his leg and sent the griffin back with a large kick to the gut. Marcus brought his sights to bear on the griffon and pulled the trigger twice, sending two voles into him. The guards that had their backs against the wall a few moments ago now took up formation, making a small shield wall with either their own shields, or spells, lining up from one side of the corridor to the other. Marcus stood behind them, putting his SMG’s away and taking out his shotgun. Griffins were pouring into the castle from a breach in the wall ahead of them, and Marcus only had about 10 guards with him. They looked to him as he studied them. Marcus pumped his shotgun and nodded to them.

“Shield wall! Steady advance! Ready, MARCH!” The guards moved forward, griffon crashing into the shield wall. Marcus stood behind them, firing a shot at a griffon to ease the coming onslaught of griffon bodies. Marcus pumped his gun again, firing into the crowd. He saw two or three fall, but more came. The guards held their posts, barely pushing forward. They held their spears and swords forward, getting a hit where one could in these close quarters. They kept pushing, yelling cheers of valour and honor to each other while yelling curses to their foes. Marcus reloaded for a brief moment as the shield wall stopped. They had made ground, but at a cost. A pony had been lost, and two others were injured, but stayed within the wall and held. Thier movement was slower, but Marcus could see that most of the griffons seemed to have made it within the inner gates. Guards could be heard along the corridors and walls giving battle in the Sisters’ name, fulfilling their oaths to their country and their rulers. 

They began the advance again, spear poking out where they could and strike at whatever was in front of them. Marcus had put his shotgun away and decided to quicken things up. He pulled out his SMG’s again, and launched himself over the guards ponies shield wall. He unleashed his weapons on them, spinning and ducking underneath axes and spears thrown and hacked in his direction He was barely conscious of the guards moving behind him, cleaning up whatever he left behind. He didn't need to worry about them, how could he? He mind was overtaken but the orchestra of war. It moved him, swayed him, controlled him; war controlled him once more, and used Marcus to his full potential. He didn't hold back. He never stopped. Faces blew past him as he tore through the griffin line. The griffins behind him held back a little afraid they might get caught in this dance. He stopped only when he ran out of enemies to fight. He looked around, a blood rage almost over taking him. He looked around for other targets, more enemies to fell, more blood to be spilt. Marcus stopped himself and looked around, the guards behind him bloodied and bruised; two more had fallen. Others had joined them from adjacent corridors and hallways. Some moved around the bodies, checking their own wounded and killing what wounded there were of the enemy. He clipped his now empty SMG’s to his sides and began to move towards the sounds of battle once more. The guards behind saw and followed. They would follow him for the rest of that day. 




What reminded of the griffin force either surrendered or fled from the city, it’s defenders over powering their small assault by the end of that day. The court yard was now a place for the dead to be placed and mourned in later times while the rest of the castle had been turned into a hospital. Nurses ran from room to room, some carrying medicine and bandages while other carried wounded guards and civilians. Marcus stood in the throne room, a host of guards behind them. They had taken to following Marcus the whole day, standing by his side as they fought on through the day together. They fought together, bleed together; they died together. They were his company, his guards now, and he regarded them with a sense of honor and pride only a soldier could give them. Five of the original ten who fought with Marcus in that corridor now stood, the other dying from wounds or in combat. They all stood together, as leaders of this makeshift company, before their rulers, giving an account of what had happened during the fighting. 

“We finally cleared out the eastern wall with help from the second division. What survivors there were I split up as I saw need of them and had them hold their position. We then moved to the Southeastern section of the inner castle and purged these three sections clear of griffins,” while saying this, Marcus pointed to the sections he had just mentioned. 

“I picked up any stragglers i found and brought them with me as we kept moving.” Celestia, Luna, and Twilight all stood before them while troubled expressions. While the guard was still strong, it had taken a large blow from this small scale attack. 

“And what of your….friend? You said you left her in the care of some guards, but hadn't seen her since you pulled together this fight.  Did she co-operate i wonder…” at that a guard ran up to Marcus with a scroll in mouth. He took it from him ,removing his helmet and looking at the parchment.

“Emilia..i-is...ah...shit… I  still can't get this equestrian writing down. You talk the same, but have different symbols for everything!” At that he handed the scroll to his second in command without a fuss and hunched over, waiting for it to be read. 

“Lieutenant Emilia 239 is in our custody and co-operating. We have her held within one of the cells in the lower sections of the castle.” Marcus nodded and looked up at the princesses.

“See, told you; no need to worry. If she wanted to, she would have laid me out as well as the rest of the guards around her if need be..” Celestia raised an eyebrow.

“She’s better then you?” Marcus nodded, a hint of shame on his features. He had never liked it; the two of them had been competing against one another since boot camp at age 6. Hey became friends through it, but she had always been better on the field. 

“And can she be trusted?” Marcus stood up straight and bowed his head in thought. This wasn't the UNSC she was with anymore, so she had no allegiance to them as far as MArcus knew, but for all he knew, a lot had changed to her in these past two years, just like he had changed. 

“I’m going to say yes, she can. I know her well enough to judge her.” The princesses seemed comforted by this and let the subject go. They then went over breaches within the wall and having them repaired as soon as possible. More guards would be posted on the outside gates and smaller, lesser walls that oversaw the very exterior of the city and the inhabitants inside. They divided the guards up, with help from the generals that had now been gathered around the table; they had been previously occupied trying to organize their military over the country's vast borders, telling them to hold the line until new orders arrived. 

“Now, on the subject of this little….company you seemed to have gathered. We have a lot of good soldiers in that company their private, and we will need them.” A thinner looking general with a balding head and pipe said. He looked up to him without a drop of fear, and probably thought he could still show this human a thing or two. Marcus didn't doubt the old timer could. 

“I couldn't agree with you more General Stone Wall. Which is why i’m asking you to keep them together. Where ever you need us most, well’s go, only taking those to replace those we lost, no more, no less. Think of it as a...specialist company.” The general seemed mildly pleases with this idea, as if it had already come to mind and he was just waiting for Marcus to say it. 

“I see nothing wrong with this proposition. General Armour, what say you?” Shining nodded his head while looking at the map of equestria. The general was pleased, and those around the table agreed to it as well. 

“Then it is settled. You company needs a name however; what will it be? What will we call these brave few?” Marcus turned to those who had gathered with him; all were battle hardened, strong soldiers. Not once had Marcus seen dishonor in their ranks; no one pillaging bodies or taking keepsakes from others fallen. They earned their metal. 

“What say you, my company? What are we?” Marcus shouted to them. All others in the room stood, looking at them. They all raised the weapons, banging them loudly against their shields. 
“SPARTANS!”