Across a frozen field, the cavalry charged.
One thousand Pegasi, gold-frogged dolmans buttoned up tight against the cold, fur-trimmed pelisses billowing from their shoulders, thundered over the frost, their wings kicking up great glittering clouds of ice crystals, with gleaming curved sabres thrust out ahead of them.
“COME ON!” yelled Captain Flash Sentry. “COME ON!”
His wings were a blur and his flanks ached as he flew. The stallions and mares of the 10th (Imperial Crystal) Hussars either side of him buffeted against him as the single line of one thousand Pegasi charged. Sentry’s wings strained as he struggled to outfly them all.
Burning pain shot through his sides as he felt himself pulling ahead. To his left he saw the gimlet eye and scowling jaw of Sergeant Major Cold Steel, froth collecting in the corners of his mouth and breath blowing in clouds from his muzzle. Sentry flashed him a roguish grin as he sped past.
The target was a single ring levitating above the ground half a mile from where they'd formed up. Sentry's sword took it through the centre.
Grinning and panting, Sentry fluttered to the frost-kissed ground and held his trophy high as his troop surrounded him.
“Bloody well done, sir!”
“Fastest flying I've seen in a while!”
Cold Steel thumped down heavily next to him. “You may have the speed, sir, but have you got the stamina?”
Sentry laughed. He sensed that, against his better judgement, the disapproving Sergeant Major was starting to like him. “I have everything, Mr Steel.”
A bugle blasted from the centre of the now-ragged regiment. “REFORM!” roared Colonel Beryl de Topaz.
A line of lathered, panting Pegasi, sweat steaming from their coats, slowly reformed around the standards. One was the Princesses’ Cavalry Standard, a crimson flag bearing the Coat of Arms and Royal Cypher and the regiment’s name. The other was the Regimental Standard an indigo guidon bearing a winged Imperial Snowflake in its centre. Ringing that were the words; THE IMPERIAL CRYSTAL HUSSARS, wreathed in laurels. Stitched to the guidon were four gold scrolls, battle honours bearing the words; Maneden, Silvestris, Kelpie Creek, and one that no other regiment in the army carried, Tailwald Wood. His brother officers might curse Flash Sentry for a cad, but he was still a soldier, and like all soldiers, it was to his colours, more than to his Princesses or his country, that he gave his love and allegiance. As long as those flags remained, the regiment could never die, could always march to future glories.
An aide was scribbling notes down on a sheet of parchment. Colonel Beryl de Topaz, the regiment’s Commanding Officer, took the paper and calmly regarded the list of names. “A good charge today, everypony!” she cried. “Come spring, Blueblood and Radical Road will rue the day they ever crossed us!”
She read from the sheet. “I need to see the following ponies in my office when we get back to barracks: Sentry, Steel, Hunter, Gust, Blaze, Hoof. Squadron commanders, carry on!”
Officers and their Sergeant Majors? thought Sentry, as he went through the motions of congratulating his squadron. Whatever for? Sentry had a few good ideas as to why his commander might wish to speak to him alone, but he couldn’t imagine why she’d need the command staffs of three squadrons.
The regiment trotted in column from the field, moving up a long road paved with quartz slabs north back towards the shining spires of the Crystal Empire. Farmers bringing in the last of the harvest paused to watch in awe as they marched past. No doubt it was a very fine sight, the Hussars marching in full campaign uniform with the banners flying. What they left behind them was not so fine: the frontage of the column was wider than the road, so the regiment left trails of churned brown mud on each verge where that morning had been grass turned white and brittle with frost.
The fields gave way to crystal buildings and straight, wide streets. The Crystal Ponies were doing their best to keep calm and carry on, but it was obvious that things had changed. On the edge of the city, earthworks were being thrown up, deep ditches backed by great berms that glittered with fragments of crystal. Further out, on the Marches, Guardsponies were digging out flèches and redoubts. The streets were quiet, and those ponies that were out hurried about their business. As they passed shops, Sentry saw shelves that were sparsely-stocked, and the selection was getting thinner by the day. A country at war.
Being unmarried and living in the barracks, Sentry was fortunate enough to have avoided the worst of the price hikes since the war had started, though the price of a bottle of wine in the mess wasn’t exactly going to get any lower, and he wasn’t looking forward to his next mess bill. The regiment trotted out of the Crystal Empire’s wide boulevards and through the wrought iron gates of the Imperial Barracks. A battalion of the Crystal Guard was out performing manoeuvres on the drill square.
Sentry went through the tedious business of dismissing his squadron and sending them back to barracks before making his way across the square to the regimental offices. Cold Steel strode next to him. They entered the building and made their way through smart, gleaming corridors, the walls lined with freshly-commissioned paintings of the Crystal Regiments’ actions in the Changeling War.
Sentry was ready to lazily brace up as he always did when he entered his C.O.’s office – it was just enough to irritate Beryl de Topaz without being insolent – but when he saw who was standing next to her, he snapped to attention with the rest of the Hussars and saluted.
“At ease, gentlestallions,” said Lieutenant General Dame Silver Star. Until recently the Colonel of the Crystal Guard, she had been promoted to Adjutant-General of the Army of the Crystal Empire to oversee the massive expansion Shining Armor had ordered. Sentry couldn’t help but wonder why: a row of medals on her green jacket, the longest that Flash Sentry had ever seen, spoke of the pony that had personally led the Crystal Guard in six spearpoint charges during the Changeling War. This was not the sort of officer to take out of the field and stick in an office.
“So these are the Pegasi you recommended?” asked Silver Star.
“Absolutely, ma’am,” said Beryl de Topaz. “The best swords, best shots and fastest fliers in the regiment.”
This was heady stuff, and Sentry could see that the Hussars next to him were doing their best not to show that they were preening. Here they were being presented to one of the most respected Generals in the Crystal Empire, the one responsible for personnel and promotions, no less. You’re made, Flashy.
“Excellent,” said Silver Star. “General Evenstar will be needing good fliers.”
Aide-de-camp to a General! thought Sentry. He was already imagining how smart a crimson-and-blue aiguillette would look.
“Gentlestallions,” continued Silver Star. “Congratulations, you’re hereby transferred to General Evenstar’s staff. Report to the Crystal Palace tomorrow at 0900 for briefing and assignment to the Maresaw Corps.”
Something cold suddenly trickled down Sentry’s spine, and at that moment he realised that Beryl de Topaz was smiling at him nastily. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, trying to sound deferential. “Did you say Maresaw?”
Silver Star cocked an eyebrow at him. “Of course, Captain. Where else but Ponland?”
His brother officers and their Sergeant Majors were of course grinning like loons at this opportunity to add to their laurels, but Sentry couldn’t share in their enthusiasm: he was hardly opposed to a bit of dash and derring-do – he was a Hussar, after all – but the talk in the Crystal Empire right now was of nothing but Ponland, and he did not like what he heard. Shining Armor had ordered conscription in the Imperial Territories to rapidly raise an army, and that had included Imperial Ponland. The Ponish there, already chafing at being transferred to the control of the Crystal Empire, were close to outright revolt over the order, and Ponyatowski, the Parliamentarians’ representative in Ponland, was whipping them into splitting from the Empire outright and declaring for the Republic. The few Royalists there, mostly Crystal Pony migrants, were massing into the Maresaw Corps, which for now seemed to be keeping a lid on things, but it could not be long before the explosion came.
Perhaps it was the Hussar spirit that kept Sentry from protesting, the same one that had the rest of the picked few jabbering about finding honour and glory in Ponland as they left the office, but he remained silent as they left and as Cold Steel began quizzing him about arrangements for the squadron while they were gone.
That night Sentry paid a visit to his favourite brothel and gave three Crystal Pony mares the soundest rutting of their lives.
He arrived at the Crystal Palace the next morning with dark circles under his eyes, with the smell of too much coffee on his breath and mare’s perfume on his coat. The briefing was given by Brigadier General Sir Bronze Star, Silver Star’s brother and recently appointed planning officer of the Army of the Crystal Empire.
“Ponland east of the Bitula was transferred to the Empire’s control just over a year ago,” Bronze Star was saying, pointing at a map. “A referendum was held that supported the partition, however turnout was low and since then many Ponish have come to regret their decision. The order last month to begin selection for conscription has triggered widespread resentment and non-compliance, which has only been intensified by Parliamentarian activity in Ponland proper. The presence of our corps just over the river from Maresaw may be the only thing preventing the state from outright declaring for Blueblood. If it does, our hold on Imperial Ponland would become untenable. It is absolutely vital that we restore good relations with the Ponish in order to secure the containment of the Parliamentarians and maintain our communications with Prancenburg.” He nodded at a pony sitting in the front row of seats. “General.”
The pony stood slowly. “Thank you, Brigadier General,” he said quietly, making his ponderous way to the lectern.
So this is General Evenstar, thought Flash Sentry. He did not like the look of his new chief. The brown Crystal Pony was well past forty, the gleaming shine of his coat fading, with a deeply-lined face framed by heavy white whiskers. He moved and spoke sluggishly.
“Thank you,” he said again, after taking what felt like an age to prepare his notes. “This command is a great honour to me, though…” He smiled weakly. “Perhaps it should have fallen on younger shoulders.”
Somepony chuckled politely. Sentry thought; Well, here’s a fine one to take the field with.
He couldn’t say he was surprised at the appointment, though. Evenstar had seen some action as a Major with the Crystal Guard at Maneden, but he’d been brought low by dysentery soon afterwards, with an extra helping of malaria from the Bitissippi Delta, and he’d never quite recovered from either illness. In any other circumstances he’d have quietly retired, but it a new army that was to be vastly larger than anything that had come before, officers were being taken from wherever they could be found, regardless of their talents. In some cases, that would get you Silver Star. In others, that got you Evenstar.
Sentry saw Cold Steel stifle a yawn as Evenstar spoke, which told him volumes. Desperately trying not to nod off, Sentry turned his attention back to the map. He did not like the look of it. Imperial Ponland was a triangular island of territory framed by the Bitula, Rein, and Ramube, hilly in the centre and swampy near the rivers. Control was pretty solid down the railway line from Lake Huorn to the city of Stalliongrad, but that region had substantial populations of Crystal Pony and Prancenburger migrants. In the centre and along the single railway line that linked Stalliongrad to Maresaw, there were only a few large towns and many scattered villages. From its garrison just over the Bitula from Maresaw, Evenstar’s new corps was forever patrolling just to keep that railway open, and everypony with a drop of strategic sense in them was wondering how much longer it could go on.
Every soldier, spear and gun sent to Imperial Ponland was another stick being added to a bonfire, and it was just Flash Sentry’s luck that he would end up on top of it.