A few days passed, and Flash gradually began to settle in. While rumours about strange things going on in the city- more disappearances, and hints of some sort of Saddle Arabian interest- Flash was too busy to care much. He was safe within the Academy, so he focused on his job, and had taken on one of the classes for his mentorship.
The school had an odd way of doing things. Instead of students choosing instructors and following a curriculum in pursuit of a degree or diploma- instructors picked classes. They worked together and specialized the classes into either a speciality, or focused on generalist strategy. Class Prime was the hard-logic and statistics, and would make excellent seconds in command one day. Class Steamroller was direct tactics and squad-level leadership. Class Divine Wind focused on intelligence and subterfuge. Class Excellence was the strategic command class. Flash found them a perfect match for his experience, and had been sitting at the back for a while, listening into their instructors.
The first day they had ignored him- or tried to. These were soldiers in training after all, but he could sense a giddiness throughout as they learned ancient wisdom from an instructor known as Finwe, that seemed old enough to have learned these lessons first hand, as well as the more banal aspects of a teenagers education- geometry, geography, physical sciences, Equestrian history, etc.
The second day, after the more basic activities, the instructor was explaining classical calvalry tactics and the art of the flanking maneuver. Basic in itself, but when he was starting into how one should "Press the advantage- charge into the lines and break them up so a forward charge can sweep them away" Flash raised his hoof, and the instructor pointed at him.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Your strategy is obsolete," Flash said, and slipped out of his desk, striding inbetween the aisles of students towards the board.
The instructor had drawn a classic infantry line, with two arrows ahead and two around the side. Those arrows pointed to a second line, designation "Enemy". Flash erased the arrows, and the first line as well.
"Firstly, line battles don't happen anymore- when we engage, it's mostly within 300 meters and on a squad-to-squad basis," he said, and then drew a dozen circles instead of the two lines.
"Secondly, if you break cover and "press the advantage" you're going to get shot. Never break cover unless anyone that can shoot you is dead or suppressed," he continued and drew and arrow around the enemy line from two of the circles.
"So a better strategy is for them to open fire on the flank from cover, disrupting and harrying the line. Focusing on total destruction of the enemy when your only advantage is a flanking position is foolish."
He then turned to the instructor, who nodded respectfully- but picked up his own chalk and re-drew the enemy line into a band of circles.
"But if line tactics are dead- as you say- then they could easily re-group and overwhelm your meager flanking force," he said, and split the former-line into 3 sections of circles.
"That's right, which is why I said assaulting into the line would be suicide. Harrass them, stay in cover, and don't get caught without a retreat."
The instructor nodded again, "Fair enough, but then how do you break a solid enemy phalanx?" he asked.
Flash shrugged, "Artillery."
The rest of the day followed this pattern. The instructor explained a classic strategy, Flash moved it into the 11th century. Calvary charges didn't exist anymore- but combined infantry and light-armour did. The idea was similar, and it was easy enough to work around.
Flash found the idea that it was common in classical militaries for horses to ride other, armoured, horses into battle carrying a pike absolutely hilarious. The imagery of an earth-pony giant charging forth with a unicorn on their back, spewing magical fire and lashing out with a long pike was almost comical. He could understand why it had worked worked then- but it wouldn't today.
He also met one of the students- a Zebra named Shayle- and sat down to play a match of chess with her at lunch. The other students watched, and Flash- despite his lack of skill at this specific game- was winning.
Finwe watched from his desk, sipping tea, and quipping now and then. "Careful cadet, the worst enemy is an enemy that doesn't know the rules. Don't mistake inexperience for stupidity."
Flash knocked over one of her knights, and she frowned. She moved a pawn, and then next turn found she had walked into a trap set by Flash, as he pounced it with a knight. Then she grinned, moved her Queen to kill it- and his own Queen killed hers.
"I uh- I can kill your king now," Flash said, he had a knight that could jump on it.
She grumbled and moved her king.
"Well now there's a pawn that can hit it."
She moved it again.
"Now my Queen can kill it."
At this she blinked. No matter which direction she moved- Flash had a block. If she moved any other piece, Flash would have her next turn.
"He's got you now Cadet, an honourable surrender is preferable to death," Finwe commented.
She looked Flash in the eye, and moved her king directly into the path of his Queen, "Check mate," she huffed.
Flash tilted an eyebrow and knocked the piece over. He hadn't expected to win, and the mare he had beaten angrily pushed away from the table, and through the crowd of students.
Crossing his arms, Flash sat there, confused.
"Don't worry about it," one of the students said, "Shayle just... doesn't like to lose."
Flash left the room afterwards, as the class delved into algebraic problems- something that Flash despised as much as he was simply poor at. It was rather enjoyable really, having his run of a school and being able to ditch any classes he didn't like.
He ambled around the hallways for a bit, sticking his head up to the windowed doors of a few of the rooms. Class Hurricane was- once again- studying the thousand year history of Wonderbolt flight routines. Class Golden Sun was studying the Lunar Treason and the counter offensive. Class Horse Horse was discussing ways of improving unit morale in conditions of probable or certain defeat. Looking inside, propaganda posters lined the walls alongside stage plays for the troops abroad.
Director Commodus had been touring the halls as well- with an eye out for anyone skipping class- and strode up behind him as he listened into an instructor explain Luna's ability to overtake Equestria so quickly a thousand years ago.
"It was a simple lack of understanding. Nobody could concieve, no less prepare for, the bulwark of the day- the Night Guard- of turning against the Crown. This is why we prepare, students, this is why we plan for even the most insane of scenarios."
Flash nodded his head, agreeing with the lesson. "You've got an amazing brain trust here," he said, and turned to look down at the chubby mare.
"I do, and I make sure they're kept safe and have everything they need. It's a dangerous world out there Colonel- you know that better than the rest of us," she said, and then gestured that he follow him. "Now, my office, classified talk."
Flash did as asked, wondering what kind of talk she might be getting at. Commodus led him past the same sergeant- who saluted this time- and to her office. She gestured at a chair before her desk, plonked herself down on the other side, and sighed as she settled in.
"You're not privy to know this- but I haven't been here all day. Spitfire came by and was briefing me personally," she started, and pulled a manilla folder from... under her seat cushion.
"That's uh, ominious," Flash commented.
Commodus snorted, "you could say that," she said, and opened the folder on her desk.
Photographs, taken by one of the Pheonix planes. It was hard to tell- it was a rather blurry and monochrome picture, but it appeared to be ships at sea. Big ones.
"I didn't know we had a sea-fleet," Flash said.
"We don't."
"So these..."
"...aren't ours. That's right Colonel, what you're looking at is the single largest collection of Saddle Arabian vessels anypony has ever seen- and it's 200 kilometers west of here."
Flash's eye twitched, "That's... more than ominious."
Commodus nodded, "That's an invasion force. We don't know if it's bound for the south or it's coming for us- and we can't evacuate, all of our major airships are engaged in the far east. The Magnificent is in drydock, and the changelings are refusing to hand over the Ace in the Hole- not that it would even matter." she said, and then looked up to Flash.
"I wouldn't leave anyway, not without my students- and every single one of my students. We can't fit that many ponies on a dinky frigate like that, so it's a moot point," she said, and closed the folder back up.
"I just wanted to keep you in the loop colonel, regulations state that high ranking officers should be informed of changes in circumstance even if not in a command role at the time."
Flash squinted, "Thank you?"
"You're welcome."
There was then a knock on the door, and the desk sergeant poked her head in, "Director, Instructor Alexander needs you i-"
"-it's urgent, it always is," Commodus said, and sighed as she hauled herself back out of her chair. As she did, the sound of her uniform fraying at a point of high-tension tore into the silence.
Flash blinked, "I think you need to go a size up."
Before he could blink again, he was hit- rather fiercely- across the face by the sergeants hoof, and while he leaned over in shock, heard her voice in his ear yelling like his mother had found him with the neighbors daughter again.
"Where in the hell do you get off talking to the director like that?!"
Flash blinked, his brain was trying to process but was being shouted down.
"If I had a little more rank I would-"
"Thank you, Sergeant."
"-I would call Spitfire and-"
"Sergeant."
"-and I would tell her you-"
"Sergeant!"
The sergeant silenced, and stood there with her chest heaving as she took heavy, angry, breaths. This was a mare that was on a killing path, and she stared Flash down like he was a spawn of Tartarus.
"You are dismissed, sergeant."
She made sure to slam the door on her wait out for effect, leaving Flash alone with Director Commodus.
"So, Colonel, regulations state that striking an office is a treasonous offence, and I'll make sure Sergeant Dusk pays for it- but you... "
Flash blinked.
"You do not just walk in here, into my academy, and make fun of my... weight. Do you not think I know how heavy I've gotten?" she fumed, face red with anger and, it seemed, a little bit of self disgust as well. She was ranting at Flash, but perhaps at herself too.
"Yes, I need larger uniforms than most. That doesn't mean I don't run this school with every ounce of strength, and every last drop of blood sweat and tears I've got in me. These students respect me, do you have any idea the level of respect it takes to look like I do and not have to worry about being made fun of here? They don't care, Flash, they wouldn't care if I was too big to move- I'm the Director, and they respect me. I respect them, hell- I love them, all of them. I can walk these halls confident that it'll never be an issue- but you! You just walk in here and suddenly it's a free for all."
Flash had no choice really but to bear this and sink into the chair.
"You just quip like you're some damn movie hero. Don't you think for one minute, not one second, that I don't see what you do too- and so do they. Unlike you, they got over it."
She slipped out of her chair again- another tear sounding from her uniform, and trotted to her door without even looking at him.
"Grow up or get out."
She left the door open as she passed into the hallway, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Flash truly felt ashamed of himself.