//------------------------------// // Strategos // Story: In Flame // by SteelEagle //------------------------------// Three years, three months, and a day. One of the natural gifts granted an Earth pony was a near savant ability to tell time through means other than sky or clock. It was instinctual, internal, and as magical as anything the other species were capable of. Applejack could tell anypony what season it was, month, week, and day if she had been knocked out cold and been kept in such a condition for a year. She knew when each and every tree was ready to be bucked not because she had some sort of silly connection to nature, but because she had a silly connection with time. She was never at a loss in understanding it, but there wasn't a possibility of misunderstanding time in her situation. She didn't need to be an Earth pony to keep track of this. Three years, three months, and a day. Perhaps she would see year three, month three, day two. Maybe not, and the more she gave thought to the situation, the likelier that possibility became until it became a high probability. A smirk flashed across her weary face- such thoughts and beliefs had crowded her mind a dozen times before. Whether she could be considered lucky for having made it through each previous time or unlucky for having lived only to engage in another nightmare was up for debate, but having made peace with it years ago and now finding it some sort of outrageous farce that she survived certainly helped improve her attitude. After today, if she lived, she wouldn't need to have her attitude improved through any artificial means, because every moment of the past three years would be worth it. Three years, three months, and a day. She pulled the tight bronze-steam weapon holsters over her front hooves again, followed by the bronze-steam armored saddle and cuirass, their sudden weight once being a burden. Now to be without her armor, her lance, her shield, her sword, it all felt wrong, as if she was being wronged or robbed or otherwise malformed. Her mane, tail, and fur, as neat and cut as befit one of her rank, all showed the signs of the usage of it. Creases where metal had been tightly wound against her, where excess steam from the mechanical workings of her weapons and armor had burned her, where the armor had stuck during the dead of winter and pulled out entire clumps of fur, these were permanent additions or subtractions depending on one's point of view. She thought of them as additions, as they tended to peel away the fur that covered the truth of her war. Scars from spear thrusts, sword cuts, arrows, and burns pockmarked her body, each one a reminder to friend and foe alike that there stood Applejack the Unbreakable, Applejack the Wall, the hero and the valiant. It was a symbol more than anything- she was a symbol more than anything- because all of this was true. And to be honest about such an affair, the mare would have to show her wounds. Those wounds would become covered by the fur that sought to protect them from the currently untamed Equestrian weather if she was unarmored, truth hidden by intention. So, as Applejack pulled the straps on her armor tighter and tighter until she could feel a dizzy spell come over her, she loved her armor. And perhaps after this day, the day of her tenth engagement in the front, she would get used to the weight of the pike on her shoulder after three long years. Three years, three months, and a day, to be exact. She finished with her weapon and armor attachments, slapping the guard over her right hoof before flipping it back inside, hitting the back of her right hoof against the inner portion of her leg near the wrist. A small jet of steam shot out of her bronze weapon holster and by the time she registered it, a short sword had shot out of the holster and extended well past the end of her hoof. She took a few swipes at the air in front of her, dancing shadows in the light provided by her fading lamp in the officer's tent for a few moments. She repeated the motion with the hoof once more, and the sword retracted. It was a secondary weapon, if a useful one. She would rather not have to use it as it was of no use in her formation, meaning if she drew it, the formation was broken and they were likely to be overrun. The sword would prove very useful then, as it was easy to find the weak points in an enemy's defense. Jugulars were easy targets, disembowelments easier than she thought, and decapitation did the job well too. But she wasn't one of the fancy sword-stallions; she was a pikemare. She'd rather hide behind her shield and let her pike go through the motions. Killing became easy when all you saw was the back of your shield, felt was the impact of your pike, and heard- well, between all the screaming and cursing, you didn't hear anything anyway. If she had to use her sword, that meant she had to confront what was happening. She wasn't happy with that scenario, that possibility. Killing in a phalanx was bad enough as it was. She'd come to terms with that for a while. She did the same motion with her left hoof and within a few seconds, her shield was deployed. It was as tall as she, made of bronze, and entirely heavy. She made a few movements forward and found it just as uncomfortable as always, even if she was now capable of moving forward at a much quicker pace than she had when she was first trained. That was almost impossible to fathom, as she had been in such better shape back then. Constant marching and inconsistent diet had turned her once physically impressive form into a more ragged and decidedly malnourished one. She felt so much weaker than she had back then, but experience paid dividends more than strength could ever hope to. She set herself behind the shield and moved her right shoulder up on its own before she heard the first click. She quickly pulled her shoulder back down and the first six feet of the pike shot out from the slot, Applejack sliding it into a notch on the very top right of the shield. There were four such holes, one on the top right, on the right, top left, and left. This allowed four pikes to be positioned in line for battle if required, though usually only two were present as anti-Griffon doctrine dictated that her formation have the majority of their pikes airborne. She then pulled her shoulder forward and back, forward and back, the pike hissing lowly as it shot forward and was pulled back multiple times, stretching the length of her tent. She would have preferred to have taken out the full eighteen feet of the pike, but space was at a premium. After a few more thrusts to get reacquainted with her primary method of killing, she lowered her shoulder until she heard a click. The pike shot back into her armor, and she raised her left shoulder until she heard two clicks. She then let her body rest a moment before she made two quick movements with her left shoulder and heard two audible hisses as the steam-powered tubes shot nothing out of them. It had been a dry run; normally, her two pilla would have shot out at high speed. She had become very good with their use; why, it was almost like she had been at war for three years. Three years, three months, and a day, to be exact. She looked at the last piece of the ensemble, her helmet that through all of its dings still had the plume on top untouched. She hated it. Her vision was restricted and the noise so unworldly formed that even her own voice became alien. Still, while she was no fashionista like an old friend of hers was, she did like the helmet of the Lochagos. It wasn't horizontal like those of the enomotarchs and ouragos', but forward like a mohawk in a brilliant green and white color scheme. She slid it on and then pulled it tight with the straps until it was snug around her jaw, taking some effort to open and close her mouth. Good. That meant should something slam against her, she wouldn't have to deal with her helmet rattling around and giving her too bad a concussion. Of course, maybe instead of getting a concussion she'd just have a fractured skull. That'd happen once or twice before, though for the life of her she couldn't exactly remember when. That thought gave her another reason to smirk, as if everything could be a joke. She hoped it was, this whole venture, just a cruel joke played by some uncaring universe for reasons of perverse entertainment. At least then she could say something other than herself found this all to be one big joke. She could maybe have found one other mare in this world to find it funny, but Applejack didn't even know if she were alive, dead, a prisoner, paralyzed, tortured, or happy and content back in Ponyville. "Alright, think ah've held it off long 'nough," She whispered lowly to herself. It was mighty fine, having the freedom to waste her time in her tent until she was needed. There used to be a time when she would be rushed to the front long before she was needed because that was the order of the day. After killing so many and losing so much, she figured her commanding officer no longer thought it required to interfere with her goings on. She appreciated it. Still, she had to get going eventually. Taking a deep breath, all of her shields and weapons safely in place, she trotted out of her tent. Met was she by the sun's glistening rays which pierced the dark, heavy cloud cover to cast an otherworldly shade over the grassy plains before them. Tents of many shapes and sizes stretched out around hers as far as the eye could see and all around them were thousands of ponies in the same armor scheme as her milling past the tents and over a series of hills off in the distance. That is, except for the group of nearly a hundred ponies who huddled around her tent. ****** "Whatcha lazy bums doin' just millin' 'bout my tent? Dontcha have somethin' betta to do, like fightin' a war and such?" She yelled out to her comrades, the response being a chorus of laughter as she started trotting past them, her Lochos following close by. "Nah, we just wanted to make sure our lochagos wasn't gonan be lazin' about today. You know how she is, always avoiding the fighting so she can prune her feathers like an overfed pegasus," Her second in command, enomotarch Crazy Legs, spoke with a cutting rasp. They were all by this stage certifiably insane, which was the best possible state of mind. "Ah'm sorry, ah couldn't hear ya over the sound of yer pissin' yourself like a lil' foal, sugarcube," Applejack replied sweetly, eliciting a roar of laughter from the ponies behind her. Crazy Legs joined in and fell behind, and soon the entire lochos was following in step behind her. She picked up the pace and so did they, starting to stream by the unicorn archers and lazy pegasi who weren't going to be needed until later. Whatever- maybe they wouldn't be needed at all, if Applejack and her compatriots had any say in the matter. They reached the crest of the hill and saw a sight both familiar and terrifying. nearly twenty thousand ponies were starting to arrange themselves forming a battle line. Above, around a thousand pegasi were starting to form themselves, while the other half were still lazing about back in camp. Another two thousand archers, mostly unicorns though intermixed with others with aptitude in the art, mingled around a few dozen steam and magic powered siege engines. It was a brilliant sight, but one she had grown accustomed to, lacking definition as it did. They still had some time before battle, even if they were minutes away from the pre-battle movements, and definition would come with that time. It always did. Equestrians fought with regality if nothing else. She trotted down the hill, the clatter of the ninety-nine armored ponies behind her lost in the din of many more around her. It took a few more minutes as they slowed down in the horde around them, but they soon found their way over the next hill. There it was. The front-line. One-hundred Lochos, of which nearly seventy had arrived and were taking shape. Behind them were ten thousand infantry, one-hundred centuria organized into twenty cohorts and the twenty cohorts into two legions. Two thousand auxillaries, mostly rock-kickers and light infantry, milled about. No one cared about them just at that moment, as was standard for this misshapen army. Proper procedure would have called for a different configuration but then again, proper procedure called for anything other than a war. Her Lochos joined the front soon enough, over the final set of rolling hills. Before them wide open plains almost as far as the eye could see and at the other end, a city in the mountains and nearly fifty thousand shining gold figures in between the ponies and their prize. Well, it was as good a day as any to die. Her stallions and mares took their positions in a haphazard fashion, out of all danger for the time being, as their lochagos trotted out in front of the formation one last time. She wasn't alone. Many others of her rank and above stood out in front of the lines, inspecting, inspiring, fearing for their soldiers. Their brothers. Their sisters. Their foals. Their charges. Their swords, pikes, and shields that they would willingly see destroyed mentally and physically to ensure this one victory. Celestia have mercy on them for thinking they could throw those lives away so easily.. Celestia have mercy on her for knowing she could. "Strategos, I see you have arrived. Punctual, as always," Shining Armor spoke as he cantered closer from the center to her extreme right, flanked by two Royal Guards. He was regal, as he always was, in his personalized purple armor. Their enemies had come to fear that color for many reasons and Applejack hoped that after today, they would fear it so as to never take the field again. But Strategos. A general. To be deemed such was unnerving. She could control a hundred ponies, and in battle, that was who she was. Lochagos, leader of a lochos. Her lochos, her brothers, sisters, foals, friends. However, she was asked to be in charge of ten Lochos, ten Centurias, and four companies of auxilla when it came to planning and camp and was still expected to give out orders in battle. She wasn't Twilight, and the sheer organization required was beyond her. Still, she had no choice. Spending the past few months running the show for that many had proven to be beyond her capabilities. She could make a battle plan and follow it through with honest, cold steel better than she could handle the sheer scale of paperwork and tiny little complaints and demands made of her time. Maybe that was why her formations had run through their allotment of cider months before everypony else. Maybe that was why they had the most fights and the greatest number of discipline problems. Then again, maybe that was why they were the closest band of warriors in the whole damn army, 'sides from the Hearts Command. Nopony could expect to fight better than lovers, after all. "Ah'm nothin' if not punctual, Your Majesty," Applejack said, bowing her head to the temporary King who slowed his gait as he drew near. He took position next to her and looked out across the fields, his brows furrowed "Well, it wouldn't be appropriate for an Apple to be late to one of their own funerals," He said with a sincere laugh, as joyless as it was, "though I think Big Mac is not in the mood for such humor on this day." "That bad?" Applejack asked, though she wasn't at all interested in the answer. For good or ill, she was committed. They all were. He gestured out to the growing mass of gold figures and the billowing brown cloud over the city. "Our scouts were right, as always. Fifty thousand on the ground, ten in the sky. And within the week, another forty. They hold the high ground and know exactly what we’re going to do. We're already already outnumbered three to one today," Shining Armor added without a single drop of concern. "Well, that certainly seems to fit our style, Your Majesty. Ah wouldn't have it any other way," Applejack added with a laugh. The odds were fearful, truthfully. But once one steels herself to death and it doesn't come, she can become annoyed. Have it happen a dozen times and life becomes a tragic comedy. "We all have our parts to play, Strategos. For Equestria," Shining Armor said, tilting his head respectfully. It hadn't been all that long ago that the Apples were a simple farming family in Ponyville, content to their gift of peace and prosperity. Then they had paid for their generations of prosperity and health by sacrificing their souls. Now, they stood by the temporary King ready to follow him into battle and almost certain death, again, and he found himself proud to say he had been killed alongside them. "For Equestria," Applejack replied, returning the nod as Shining Armor cantered about, speaking to the other Strategos. She sighed and turned around, only to find the small officer corp of lochagos and centurions walking up to her. ***** "Hay naw, get back in your formations. Nothin' has changed our orders, alrigh'?" Applejack swiftly shot at them, scattering them before her as she turned to face her formation. She wished she had something inspirational to say, but the fact was she didn't quite like being in this position. She smiled; she could tell the truth as she always did and they would take it as gallows humor. A part of her was starting to find it comical as well. "ALRIGHT! Y'ALL WANNA HEAR THE SCOOP?" She roared just as other strategos and other officers started speaking, reading from prepared speeches or making impromptu appeals to glory. They had it all wrong. "HUUAHHH!" Her two thousand plus ponies responded, some starting to jump up and down with nervous energy. Sick smiles started spreading amongst the veterans. "WE'RE OUTNUMBERED THREE TO ONE, WE RECKON. THEY OWN THE SKIES, 'CAUSE OUR PEGASI ARE ALL LAZIN' 'BOUT BACK AT CAMP FEEDIN' ON OUR RATIONS LIKE A BUNCHA FAT CATTLE. THEY OWN US AT RANGE 'CAUSE THE UNICORNS ARE TOO BUSY PLAYIN' 'ROUND WITH THEIR MANES TO FORM UP AND START STRIKIN' OUR ENEMY DOWN LIKE GOOD, HONEST PONYFOLK. THEY KNOW WE'RE COMIN', THEY KNOW WHEN WE'RE COMIN', THEY KNOW WHERE WE'RE COMIN, AND THEY KNOW THEY HAVE REINFORCEMENTS THAT DOUBLE 'S UP. WE CAN'T GO 'ROUND, WE CAN'T OUTFLANK 'EM, WE CAN'T ESCAPE, WE GOTTA GO RIGHT AT 'EM," She started, stopping to draw her breath and smile. "WE'RE ALL PRETTY DARN UGLY, AH RECKON THE UGLIEST BUNCH O' PONIES IN UNIFORM. WE SMELL, TOO, Y'ALL SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES," Applejack continued, her formations breaking out into small fits of laughter. "QUITE FRANKLY, WE'RE PRETTY WELL LICKED AND AH RECKON WE'LL LOOK A WHOLE BUNCH PRETTIER WHEN WE'RE IN THE GROUND," She finished, her formations roaring with approval. She countered with a joyless laugh, as everything she had said was Celestia's truth. The fact it worked as a healthy sense of gallows humor was a gift she never thought she'd need to have. "HUAAAHHH!" She waved her hooves to quiet them all down. For a moment, she gave them a look across the formation. Then he sighed. "Well, ah reckon we better get to it. If y'all die out there today, and we probably will, jus' know ah've never known a finer bunch of ponyfolk. It's been an honor knowin' y'all, and ah couldn't think of anypony else ah'd rather bleed next ta," She said from the heart, struck motionless as the old Applejack gave each and every one of them a home in her heart for however briefly it would still beat. Perhaps there was an afterlife and the fact they would soon have no home in her dead flesh wouldn’t be a great crime, their existence assured in something more etheral. "Don'tcha be getting soft on us, Applejack! We need you to kill lots of zebras so we can go home!" One of her fellows belted out from the middle of the formation, a small ripple of laughter shattering the single moment of seriousness that the lunatic could muster. Her foals were silly types. "Ah can't do all the work, you lazy bums," Applejack retorted as she trotted into her formation, taking her place at the extreme right hand side of the lochos. Behind her, a single pony did attach to Applejack's back the standard of her command. It was shockingly weightless, or at least felt like it. She did not know, if she spoke the truth- and she always did, even if her proclamations of doom seemed so obvious as to be a running comedic piece in the ranks. "As always, an excellent inspirational speech, my Lochagos," Stream Runner said from behind, that bootlickin' son of a tailor at least earning Applejack's respect in combat, even if his aforementioned bootlicking ways annoyed her to no end. "Nah, so short and jumbled and jangled about, though I s'pose there's nothing intelligent to say about a massacre," She replied with a hint of frustration, as if there was one thing she knew she wasn't it was an inspirational leader and she didn't appreciate somepony kissing her flank to get on her good side on the eve of battle. Especially when she knew she was going to die, it seemed mighty unseemly to lead a mare on like that. Nopony moved as the other officers finished or continued their speeches. All Applejack could see were the glinting forms of fifty thousand zebras in light gold- leather skin tunics in the sun and looking a mite disrespectful to Applejack's eyes. There wasn't much she could do to correct that behavior from her position, was there? Without warning, Applejack started trotting forward, her banner in the wind jutting out towards the enemy while the others stood mute in shock. Moments later, her lochos, then her entire command, followed. It took a few seconds longer, but then other formations started moving and within twenty seconds of Applejack's unilateral move, the entire Equestrian army as deployed found itself slowly marching towards the field of battle. Three years, three months, and a day. The war had lasted three years, three months, and a day. And as the ponies marched forward, they knew a victory would not end the war, this bloodletting in front of the Eternal City another chapter in a book just being written. Recapturing this symbol of power would be the greatest victory of the war for Equestria. For Applejack. For her friends, for the Princesses, for everypony alive or dead, it would be the greatest victory. But it wouldn't be the end. Not for those that were unlucky enough to live through it, not until the zebras had been cut out of the bleeding landscape itself and forced back over the borders. The ponies would fight for that. Applejack would fight for that. "For Equestria!" They marched towards their enemy. They marched towards Canterlot.