Spike chomped down on his apple, chewing it pensively as he observed the large, noisy meal room. He had returned to Greyhield’s Mountain a few days after he had saved Gylom from his own pride. Spike grabbed the wooden plate from where he had been eating and started walking back to the line of waiting soldiers, taking bites from his apple as he went. The atmosphere had a jovial nature to it, a sense that nothing could ever hurt them while they were within the stone corridors of the mighty mountain, and yet the enemy forces had been pushing back their front line farther and farther, taking back several key positions as they did; if they wanted to, the enemy could be surrounding the mountain within the next three days if they kept up their pace. Spike tossed the plate on the pile of dishes, moving out of the eatery as he finished his apple.
Greyhield had been especially hard on Gylom after his defeat at Winterglade, assigning him to guarding the mountain as he trained his division and two refreshers. Spike, on the other hand, had been treated as a hero, accomplishing what was thought impossible, especially with those new cannons the enemy had made, and having saved a far more experienced general with the same army. Spike sighed to himself; the world had changed so much since the war. Thing were so easy and lackadaisical, but now, the world was a far more complicated one; one that stank of blood, sweat, and tears. The most complicated thing he had to deal with before was helping Twi… no, he wouldn’t think about her, there would be nothing good from digging up those memories.
“General Spike,” Spike heard Galintrent call as he jogged up beside him; “I have just received word that Greyhield wishes to speak with us. We should make haste and…”
“Sure, let’s go, no need to yammer on about doing something we do almost regularly now.” Spike replied, cutting him off as he picked up his pace. Galintrent quickly fell in behind him, matching his superior’s pace perfectly as they made their way through the winding halls of the mountain castle. Walking to and from Greyhield's Hall had become almost an automatic action as the days drug on, and by this point, Spike had almost memorized how to get to Greyhield's Hall from any point in the mountain.
As they approached, the guards standing outside the hall pushed the door closed, allowing the two officers to enter. Greyhield sat on his throne, raising his head at the sound of the doors closing. Before his massive stone throne, Gylom stood, his head hung low as the two younger warriors approached. Greyhield rose up from his perch and walked around the three, looking over them with a scrutinizing look.
"Gylom, Spike, Galintrent; you have all borne witness to the beginning of a new division, and how its success is unmatched in terms of losses and victories." Greyhield began, continuing to circle around them. "Tell me, do you see Spike's future as one full of promise and great victory?" He asked, lowering his gaze to look at Gylom.
"For a soldier, much less a general, he shows great promise, and as you very well know, has accomplished objectives deemed impossible, or in the very least, improbable." Gylom replied in a lone tone, looking up to meet Greyhield's gaze. "Should he continue to apply himself, and not allow his victories to cloud his judgment and allow his ego to grow to large, we will indeed prove to be much the asset as you predicted." Greyhield smirked, turning to Spike.
"What are your thoughts on your recent string of victories? Do you believe in to be luck, the winds of fortune? Or perhaps you believe it to be because of your own skill and prowess on the battlefield?" Greyhield questioned. Spike took a deep breath, and looked his lord straight in the eyes.
"I believe it to be the result of good planning and the precise execution of those plans by my soldiers. They are as worthy of commendation as Galintrent and I." Spike stated with as much confidence as he could muster. Greyhield shifted his gaze once more, settling on Galintrent.
"Do you agree with your general?" Greyhield asked. "Are the soldiers as much to blame for your victories as the commander who made the plans which they followed to the end of victory? Or was it purely the hand of the general who won the day?" Galintrent adopted a more rigid pose as he took in a breath.
"The general is correct in his statement. The troops fought well and gave up nothing to their opponents." Galintrent affirmed. "If not for their dedication and close following to the plan General Spike laid out, our victories would have been catastrophic defeats, and many good warriors would have needlessly spoiled the soil with their blood." Greyhield nodded, turning back to Gylom as he did.
"As to you, your soldiers were to be elites amongst our army. They were soldiers trained to the peak of their abilities, and yet their blood now paints the grass of the fields a bright red, whilst our enemy marches without an encumbrance." Greyhield hissed. "If newly trained soldiers can provide victory because of dedication to a well made plan by a newly made general, then what is the reason for highly trained soldiers under the leadership of one of my eldest and most battle worn general to lose in the field of battle? Should it not be said either lack of dedication on your soldiers part, or maybe your own. Or may hap that it been naught but that your plans are flawed, and that even in all your years you have much to learn from those who have nary a third of your years?" Gylom stood rigid under his king's gaze, unmoving as his lord's displeasure washed over him.
"I cannot attest to why our soldiers lost whilst theirs won but for the fact we were the first to strike, and so were the ones who learned of the new obstacles before they arrived to claim our glory." Gylom offered. Greyhield huffed, turning away from the group, preferring instead to rest on his massive throne.
"The fact remains that you lost a battle after you knew what was planned for you." Greyhield retorted. "You had striven in years previous to gain my trust and confidence, and had shown me through many battles that my trust had not been misplaced. But now after these events, I cannot say whether my continued trust is placed best in you and your years, or General Spike, whose ingenuity not only saved you, but took an entire city, and all this without calling for the rotation of his troops. Perhaps you'd do best to see where his style differs from yours, and how best you can improve on yourself and your soldiers." Gylom didn't reply, but merely bowed, before walking out of the hall, leaving Spike and Galintrent with Greyhield. "As for you two," Greyhield began, "I would have you train harder, and push yourselves to become even better, but I'd rather have a division that already knows how to fight well without further training stay as it is for a time until we can learn more of our enemies’ new methods."
"My liege, my division thrives on the lack of understanding our enemies have us, much as they do on the rest of our forces." Spike began, to the astonishment of Galintrent. "It would be in our best interests if my troops learned radically new techniques so as to throw off our opponents as we learn more of them."As Spike finished, Greyhield’s smile grew.
"That is what I want to hear from my generals. We cannot allow ourselves to stagnate into vain repetitions that allow our enemies to read us as if we were but a scroll." Greyhield stated. "I believe that may have played a larger role in Gylom's defeats than improper planning." Greyhield finished. Greyhield motioned for the two warriors to leave as he settled further into his throne. Spike nodded, gave a salute, and then left, Galintrent following in a stunned stupor.
Spike grabbed his weighted gear from the racks of supplies as he passed, Galintrent doing the same absent mindedly, still watching Spike in shocked amazement. Spike slung the heavy packs over Celestia's back, securing them to the saddle before he mounted.
"I can't believe y-you actually spoke out against Greyhield's wishes." Galintrent stammered as he placed his packs on Luna. "You were most fortunate that it had been a test, or else you might find your head separated from your neck."
"Galintrent," Spike began, looking over at his colonel, "If I have learned anything, it is that a warrior must learn to think for himself, and not depend on his ruler for guidance, no matter how wise that leader may be. If Greyhield sent me into a battle that had me take one soldier for every thousand enemies I faced, I wouldn't do it. There is difficult, and then there is impossible. We might have accomplished what had been considered impossible, but the meaning of impossible in that case was far more construed than befits reports."
"I still advise caution when talking to Greyhield; he may not be testing you the next time he asks of you something that may seem without reason. It is not ours to ask why, but to do and to die." Galintrent responded, grabbing his weights, throwing them over his armor before flicking Luna's reigns lightly.
"Greyhield may be our lord, but I will still fight against any choice that is without foundation." Spike retorted, taking his own weights up. Galintrent let out a sigh in response as they rode out of the stables. Spike looked over the mass of soldiers that sat around small fires, warming themselves as small flakes of white floated down from above. Spike rode up to the nearest fire, the soldiers standing up and saluting as he approached.
"General Spike, we are ready for your orders." The first said, lowering his salute. The soldiers around the other fire slowly began to rise, putting their training weights as they did, preparing for the days training.
"Get the troops ready, we'll be training harder than ever. There will be no rest for a long time to come." Spike ordered. The soldiers all nodded and gave a salute before mounting their steeds. Spike snapped Celestia’s reigns and quickly rode away towards the forest, his troops following close behind.
Blaze looked over his soldiers as they moved through the obstacle course, their weighted gear smacking them in the sides with each hurdle. Blaze had since learned to fold the bags of sand over his back as he ran. It wasn’t a comfortable as having just the straps across his back, but it was for the best in the long run as he didn’t have his breath knocked out of him with every jump.
“Come on troops, keep up the pace!” Blaze shouted over his shoulder as he slid under a rather low pole before launching above a fence. Blaze zipped back and forth as he reached the forest simulation area, with a pseudo tree every meter or so, as well as small branches that made working through it all the more difficult. Blaze jumped, slid, and weaseled his way through the cramped twists and turns, before quickly grabbing an extra weight pack from the stack and entering the combat simulation portion of the course. He jumped over a small wall, only to have a pile wood cut out of a reptilous pop out in front of him. Blaze quickly brought his sword around and smashed it across the dummy’s head, the wood snapping under the pressure. Blaze landed in a roll, quickly getting back up, bringing his sword to bear; sending it straight into the next target’s chest before taking a bow and quiver from a nearby rack, shooting an arrow at a reptilous shaped target on the roof of a cardboard building.
Blaze took a towel and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow before tossing it in with the rest of the pile of used towels, which were quickly carted off. Blaze walked up towards the ranks of soldiers before him, each of them as stone-faced as the next, none of them showing the exertion they had just gone through, save for trails of sweat rolling down their faces.
“Alright soldiers, you’re doing well, at this rate you might just stand up to some of Greyhield’s table scraps!” Blaze shouted, looking over the bunch with a scrutinizing glare. “Now, back to work, lunch isn’t for another three hours, or maybe more. It all depends on you lot and how well you perform. Now get out there!” The soldiers gave a quick salute and charged off, falling into their positions.
“Think you could push them harder?” Flint asked, walking up behind Blaze. Blaze smiled and turned to the newcomer.
“Not yet, they still need to get through a day’s training and not collapse in utter exhaustion. They need to be strong enough to make it through a day and be able to go on for a few more hours.” Blaze replied, looking over to his troops, making sure none of them were slacking off, or going slower than they were supposed to.
“Well, if we’re lucky we might still have soldiers to call elites by the end of all of this.” Flint said in response. “Maybe give them a few days leave? They did perform quite well during the last battle, and the rest would be more than welcome payment.” Blaze shook his head at that.
“They did do well, but there will be no rest for the weary until this war is over. They might be good now, but they need to be great.” Blaze stated. “If we are to win, we need to train until we have nothing left so that when the day comes for battle, we’ll be more than ready for anything they can throw at us.”
“You mean that every soldier in the army has to work as hard as you do or else you aren’t satisfied?” Flint asked in a joking manner. “Blaze, you can’t expect to make diamonds from dirt in an hour, it takes time. We are talking about living, breathing soldiers, they need rest, and they need family. You might not have, or may not want those things, but others still have the possibility of enjoying those things.”
“That’s just the thing, Flint, we don’t have time. We need to force our dirt to become diamonds, even if it risks shattering them.” Blaze replied coldly. “If I can help it, these soldiers will be more than a match for anything that Greyhield can throw at us.”