• Published 4th Aug 2015
  • 5,913 Views, 912 Comments

Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly - Firesight



Before the Wonderbolts, there were the Bolt Knights. And before Rainbow Dash, there was Firefly. The story of Rainbow Dash's ancestor, the origin of the Wonderbolts, and the coming of the Great Pony/Gryphon War.

  • ...
19
 912
 5,913

PreviousChapters Next
Part 11 - Breaking Point

Friendship.

’Tis a concept we ponies revere, from which, ‘tis said, all magic and Harmony flows. But what did it really mean? ‘Twas it truly for all beings, or reserved for Equestrians alone?

Could it be offered to others, even our greatest foes? Or was doing so a foalish act that would only backfire badly? I would get a surprising answer to that question from the unlikeliest of sources, in a choice I made that would echo down the course of the coming war.


“My Princess,” High Chancellor North Star bowed to me not long after I had risen from bed and in turn, raised the sun. “I fear I must be the bearer of bad news again. There has been another gryphon attack on Outpost Epsilon.”

I looked up at her sharply. I had assumed the heavy losses the gryphons had suffered in the last raid had meant they would respect the border for a bit, but it would seem that assumption was in error. I sighed as I placed the sun in the heavens, turning to face her. “How many dead this time?”

“Six, My Princess.” She gave me a solemn bow. “’Twould seem that they sent assassins after a young gryphon held there, and then tried to slay their way to him. One was captured alive,” she summarized as she passed a report scroll to me.

I scanned it quickly and frowned. “I authorized no operation into Imperial territory, North Star,” I noted mildly, deciding I was going to have to have a chat with Daggermind, the head of the EIS before long as he was taking a few too many liberties of late. “Let alone holding a young gryphon prisoner.”

“The EIS feels that he knows something important, My Princess. Something the gryphons do not want us to know. And the fact that they attempted to kill him would seem to confirm that,” she offered cautiously, knowing my less-than-favorable feelings towards the Equestrian Intelligence Service and their Black Lance servants.

I sighed heavily. “’Tis true…” I acknowledged the logic’s validity. The EIS and Lances were, at best, a necessary evil to me, though there was no denying their utility in these troubled times. Still, I did not like the idea of spies, saboteurs and assassins in my service. They were the antithesis of Friendship and Harmony, and I pined for the day that such agencies would no longer be needed.

Such a day never seemed so far away as today, however. “My Princess? Captain Sirocco and the service heads are requesting permission to retaliate… using the option discussed after the last raid,” North Star added, passing a fresh scroll to me. “They believe that such an overwhelming strike is our best option to discourage future attacks.”

I read it and sighed, suddenly feeling all my eleven hundred years of life. I had fought wars before; I had killed ponies and members of other races during them, even been forced to banish my own sister. There had been times I had lost my way and very sanity, and yet, somehow… this only got harder as I went.

The longer I lived, the more I realized how ephemeral and fleeting life truly was for most beings, and how precious it was for it. I had no wish to fight another war; the brutal battles with my sister’s Army of the Night still fresh in my memory even after three hundred years. And yet, I also knew from long experience that the gryphons only respected force. That proportional response had not worked in the past and not responding at all only invited more mischief. Yet more death and violence that would be visited on my beloved ponies.

I had ordered the Aerial Corps to stand down after the last raid, believing the losses the gryphons had suffered were punishment enough and taking their empress at her word that the border would be respected. Apparently not. Thus, I wrote the only reply I could, signing the document and affixing my seal to it. For though I did so reluctantly, when it came down to it, I also did not flinch from it. My ponies were my responsibility, and I would do anything to keep them safe.

“Tell the Captain the order is given,” I said sadly, dreaming of a day when I would never have to order the deaths of other beings again.


Dawn’s early light found myself in the infirmary, being treated by our healers; they were clucking over their base commander like so many hens, to my great annoyance. Despite all the blood, my wounds were mostly superficial; my enchanted Guardspony armor had protected me well.

Unfortunately, I could not say the same for others. The Ravens had slain six sentries before attempting to storm my stateroom, and I grudgingly admitted that had the Sky Sergeant and EIS agent not been there, I would most likely have been among them.

They had exposed a gap in my abilities; that of close-quarters combat involving multiple opponents. I unquestionably ruled the skies and believed I could defeat any number of enemies had I the space, but in the cramped confines of my stateroom, my aerial fighting abilities had counted for far less.

Against lesser foes, it didn’t matter, but against a group as skilled as the Ravens, it could have been fatal to both me and my charge. Worse, that one eagless had proved my equal in blades and very nearly had me twice; in truth, ’twas my experience in barroom brawling that had saved me rather than my combat training. It had taught me to instinctively take cover from flying projectiles and how to use my surroundings to my advantage; the practice I’d had flinging furniture and upending tables, diving behind them to dodge or deflect thrown bottles had served me well.

Despite all I had just been through, the observation brought a smile to my face. For who would have thought all the time I spent at the Aching Drum would one day save my life?

A quick potion took care of the bleeding in my mouth, and other salves treated the worst of my facial burns from the detonating flash gem. Methinks I’d been fortunate to not be blinded, saved only by recognizing the danger of a white gem from Sundiver’s briefings and squeezing my eyes tightly shut in time. At that point, I was pronounced fit to leave the infirmary and did so with Sky Sergeant Swift Strike at my side.

“How is Agent Artemis?” I asked him as I read over a fresh dispatch from 5th Division headquarters. I noted with satisfaction that retaliation had finally been ordered and grinned as I read the form it would take. Methinks a more unworthy part of myself wished I could watch it happen—watch the destruction our chosen instrument of retribution would wreak.

As we were already on alert, there was nothing else for us to do except sit back and wait, though I planned to go interrogate Gavian Ravenoff and my own disloyal soldiers in the meantime.

“Methinks she’ll be fine in a few days,” Swift Strike replied, his sword wound now bound. He’d carried the badly wounded EIS mare to the infirmary himself, insisting on her being treated before his own injuries were tended to; he’d taken some crystal fragments and at least one grazing scimitar slash to his side but had otherwise emerged unscathed.

’Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t impressed with his abilities. Despite his slight appearance, his speed and skill with blades was phenomenal and I wondered if he might be willing to teach them to me. “Methinks this does make a mess of our plan to depart today, however. We shall need to remain here until she recovers and the border settles down.”

“Lovely,” I groused under my breath. “Saddled with a gryphon ‘guest’ whilst we wait for a mare who would never qualify for the Army, let alone the Guard, to recover from injuries that would be dangerous to either.”

I blew out a breath as we flew back to my quarters. “Still, at least she took her duty to protect our guest seriously. And methinks she did save us in the end,” I grudgingly conceded, realizing how lucky I was to be alive. If it hadn’t been for her shield, the explosive crystals tossed by the last Raven would have detonated in our collective faces. She might then have escaped cleanly, with her target slain and her mission completed.

Swift Strike nodded as we both alit. “She may be rough around the edges and a bit arrogant, but she is truly a good mare at heart.” He then glanced at me. “‘Tis certain your actions and words surprised me, though. ’Tis a rare pony indeed that would so flagrantly stand against a member of the EIS. Methinks you humbled her with your lightning trick last night.

“And you are correct on one note: she washed out of Army basic, so she was reassigned to Intelligence, and ’twas then given the cover of an Army Sergeant,” he shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Methinks her attitude is perchance in part caused by bitterness that others won fairly what she could not.”

I nodded at the sensible statement, then paused. “Wait—how wouldst you know of her past?”

He gave me a smirk. “I was there when she washed out of the Army, even if she didn’t see me. A Black Lance is able to hide, even in plain sight,” he stated matter-of-factly, then sighed. “Truth be told, ’twas I who recruited her, recognizing her sharp mind. To be certain, the mare does her job well, but not as well as she thinks.

“She is a cunning agent and an artist with that longbow of hers, but methinks she over-relies on her magic and marksponyship, at the cost of strength and stamina. She also thinks a bit too much of her intellect, so when something doesn’t go according to plan, she tends to get flustered. And though she’s excellent in interrogations and drawing conclusions from scarce data, she’s simply not the best field operative.”

I found myself less surprised than I might be at this revelation. It certainly explained his combat skill. The Black Lances frequently worked alongside the EIS, from what little I knew of the special operations battalion of the Corps. “Well, thank you for taking my side in the argument last night, Sky Sergeant. My apologies if it causes trouble for you later.”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “There’s no need for thanks, Firefly,” he said, dropping formality entirely. “I would do the same for anypony in my family.”

I blinked, caught short. “Family?”

For the first time since I had known him, he smiled at me. “Among the Lances, even those in retirement, word travels fast, and we always take care of our own. Silent Night is not just my former comrade but my cousin, and I will gladly protect and aid her new daughter in her stead.”

It hadn’t occurred to me until just then that being adopted meant having more than just immediate family; it meant an extended one too. It felt nice, having somepony who had all but agreed to act as a proxy for my new mother. I smiled back at him, shooting him a quick salute. “Thank you, Sky Sergeant.”

“’Tis my greatest pleasure, ma’am,” he favored me with another smile. “But I do ask that you not salute me or call me by my true rank or name around your soldiers. For now, I am but Corporal Zephyr Sparrow, 5th Division logistics specialist, here to oversee transfer of supplies and report on the new base construction.”

“Of course, Corporal,” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his cover. I would have said more, but we had arrived at my stateroom. And standing guard at the door, with a singularly unamused expression, was Fell Flight.

“Commander,” she acknowledged me with a brusque nod.

“Sergeant,” I replied. Without further preamble, I asked, “Has the final assassin been detained, as ordered?” While five of the formidable Ravens had stormed my stateroom, two more had been lurking outside. One of them was slain, but Fell Flight, responding rapidly to the assault, managed to corral and knock out the last. ’Twas good thinking and demonstrated great skill on her part—she knew we needed at least one alive, to answer for this attack.

“Aye. She is bound and her wounds were treated. Our healers have disarmed the magical traps and curses on her. I have instructed her guards to report to us immediately when she awakens.” Her expression was unchanged. “Commander, regarding the one in your room…”

“EIS business,” I said flatly, my expression darkening. “I can say no more.”

She blinked, then snorted. “I should have guessed. I recognized that tiercel; Blindside corralled him at the end of the last engagement, when…” she trailed off, perchance recalling the events that followed and worried they would discomfort me.

I sought to put her mind at ease quickly. “He is indeed that tiercel. ’Twas explained to me, his purpose here, and I accepted it. For the time being we will continue to protect him. You are to double the watch on him, and make sure none of the soldiers who stalked him earlier have any contact with him,” I instructed in some disgust. Captives or no, I couldn’t imagine what they’d been through when taken hostage that caused such an overreaction; from all reports they’d been asleep the whole time!

“I shall see to it.” She nodded, but then went downcast. “We lost some good ponies today, ma’am.”

My expression softened. “I know,” I told her quietly, realizing that one of my first duties as Outpost Commander was going to be another funeral service.

Fell Flight hesitated, and then decided she had to speak. “And you ma’am? Are you… well?” she asked cautiously, and I took her meaning immediately. She was asking if I was at peace with killing again, after all the trouble I’d had with it before.

And to my surprise, I realized… “I am.” I closed my eyes and then opened again, letting her see for herself that I was not upset. That did bother me on some level, that I could suddenly slay three more gryphons and then shake it off like nothing had happened, but then I remembered Silent Night’s words—that it got easier for her too.

She was correct that ’twas nothing to be proud of, but at the same time, I couldn’t obsess over every death inflicted or taken; not and stay sane. Command, ’twould seem, had already changed me, as had the simple fact I had now ponies to protect and fight for. Regardless, I couldn’t worry about it now, not with my charge still cowering alone in my stateroom. “Sergeant, do you perchance know anypony who speaks the gryphon tongue?”

Fell Flight sighed. “I speak it, ma’am,” she told me to my surprise, somewhat embarrassed. “I studied it some time ago at the behest of my mentor. ‘Know your enemy’ and all that.” She looked back at my door as muffled Aeric phrases were heard, sounding like they were being spoken through stifled sobs.

“And that’s how I know he’s been praying to his ancestors ever since he awoke. Praying for deliverance, or failing that, a quick death. Methinks he’s convinced we’ll kill him just to save ourselves from further trouble, or to take vengeance for our dead,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s a coward, ma’am.”

“He’s but a cub, scared and alone, Sergeant,” I replied. “He’s lost his freedom and his innocence. He had no idea what he was getting into by joining the raiders, and he just found out even his own kind want him dead,” I noted somberly, remembering Agent Artemis’ earlier explanation. “In any event, I need to talk to him now. So if you wouldst…”

She set her jaw. “If I must,” she replied in some distaste, opening the door and letting us in.

Upon entering, I heard a faint crying sound. The gryphon teen was currently huddled under his blanket, curled up in a fetal position on the remains of the cloud I’d given him, clutching his own tail to his feathered chest. He clearly expected death at any time, and with my entry assumed it had come, scrambling up and backing away into the nearest corner, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I could hardly believe it, but I was truly starting to feel sorry for him. “Tell him that I am not here to kill him,” I directed Fell Flight to say, and she did so, though her translation sounded a bit longer than it needed to and rather sharply delivered.

Whatever she said, tears started to roll down his cheeks and he all but prostrated himself before me, baring his throat hard. I was starting to realize that was a standard Gryphon gesture of submission and gratitude, though he was now greatly exaggerating it. He then gave an audibly shaky response.

“He thanks you for saving him and wishes to repay you,” Fell Flight announced. “He says he is in your debt and his life belongs to you now.”


Honor. ’Tis something that all gryphons have drilled into us from birth.

’Twasn’t something I’d ever had, not so much out of apathy as out of a simple need for survival. I was always small for my age, either due to a naturally slower growth rate or a simple lack of food. As such, I couldn’t win fights or duels; I couldn’t work in any real sense, and worst of all for a gryphon, I couldn’t hunt at all. I tried, believe me, but I was neither strong nor swift enough to catch prey.

So in the end, all I could do was steal from the docks or scavenge from the trash piles, accepting the occasional beating for it when others caught me. ’Twas my stomach that always motivated me; though I dreamed of warrior glory and an escape from my current life when sleeping in whatever shelter I could, most of my waking hours were dedicated to the simple pursuit of sustenance.

In truth, I had been better fed in pony captivity than I’d been throughout most of my life, and my body had responded, with my normally gaunt ribs and wings starting to fill out a bit even in the short time I’d been a prisoner.

And now, none of it mattered as I heard the voices outside, and the door opened to admit the Guardsmare commander, the stallion, and the Commander’s second, who, to my surprise, addressed me in passable Aeric. She told me the Commander would spare my life, and ’twas far more than she thought I deserved, adding that six soldiers had died protecting me.

Six lives sacrificed to save your scrawny hide! If you have even a shred of the honor the gryphons claim, you will get on your knees and thank her right now!” she all but hissed at me, showing her pointed teeth.

I did just that, telling the Commander how sorry I was and thankful for her protection, begging for the chance to help her somehow. My reply was translated, then I got one back; I was surprised to realize I was already starting to recognize a word here or there.

“She wants to know what you saw when you were with the raiders, and what interest they had in captured ponies,” came the larger mare’s translation, but then she added a question of her own. “In other words, why were the Ravens after you?”

’Twas a question I didn’t have an immediate answer for. I was scared, but I wasn’t stupid; if I had nothing else, I had good survival instincts and they told me that I’d clearly seen or heard something during my time with the raiders that gave the Empire cause to silence me.

I reviewed in my head again everything I’d seen and done during the two weeks I spent with Mistress Hildyra’s group, including some time spent in her presence I wished very much I could forget. And yet, there was nothing I could immediately recall I hadn’t already told Agent Artemis.

“I… I don’t know!” I was forced to admit, certain my inability to tell them more would yet cost me my life. “Please believe me… I don’t know.” I clutched my head in my talons and started to cry again.

“Gavian...” this time, I heard the commander call my name, and to my surprise there was no anger in it. She spoke in her own language again, and I picked up a word here or there. “I” and “You” I already knew along with “Yes” and “No”, a few curse words even if I only had a vague sense of their meanings, and even “Day” and “Night”. But this time, I heard a word I never had before—’<orphan>’.

The Commander’s second gave her a look of disbelief, then translated. “She says that she does not hold what happened here against you. And she wishes you to know that she, too, is an orphan,” the larger mare began, making me look up in surprise. She paused long enough for the Guardsmare to speak again. “She says she knows well how lonely and difficult that is. She understands that you dreamt of glory and of one day escaping your fate; becoming something more than you were.

"That you wished to become a great warrior, one whose name would be forever known,” she continued, making my eyes go wide. “That she, too, had those dreams, and was one day able to realize them thanks to a friend. That she would wish the same for you,” the mare went on with an air that suggested she could scarcely believe what she was saying. “That nobody, pony or gryphon, deserves the life you’ve had, and she thinks you quite strong inside if you could survive as long as you did lacking any home, friends or family.”

Fresh tears were welling in my eyes as she spoke, and when I looked to the Guardsmare, I saw genuine pity in her gaze as she spoke again. “She says she would take your pain away if she could, but that is not within her power. What is in her power is to offer you that which you have never known before.”

As if to emphasize the point, the Guardsmare stepped closer, and to my shock (and the cat-eyed mare’s, if her expression was any judge!), drew me into a one-legged embrace, saying a single word: “<friendship>”, which was quickly translated to me. Friend… ship? I repeated the word in disbelief. That broke the dam; I threw my arms around her and sobbed as she held me. For the first time in my life, I had met someone who understood my pain and didn’t think of me as trash.

Unworthy though I was, for the first time in my life, I had found a friend.


’Twas early afternoon when the reports of bloody failure came in, and the border forces were put on immediate alert in anticipation of retaliation. The meeting the disguised Legate had then called was not a happy one, and ’twould not have surprised me if blood was shed before all was said and done.

“What we have here,” Consul Gaius began, stalking angrily before the two gryphons he’d summoned to his Legate office at Raptor Base, “is a debacle of the first order. I was assured that the problem of our young captive would be taken care of. Not only is he still alive, but the ponies are now fully aware that we intended to slay the boy!”

He stopped and glared at both of them. “They will now be certain we are hiding something and tried to kill him to cover our tracks, potentially compromising some very critical operations! You will explain what went wrong, and why!” he told them both, his tone and lashing tail making clear he didn’t think they could.

The two gryphons in question were markedly different in their uniform and bearing. One bore the full-body cloak of the Office of Owls and seemed rather apathetic toward the proceedings. The other wore the grey dye of the Ravens, and in sharp contrast to her companion, was glaring back at the Consul.

The Owl spoke first. “We were unaware that the base commander would be overseeing the watch on the prisoner personally,” sub-Praetor Janus said languidly. “She stopped the first attempt, using the captured ponies—who, I must point out, did follow instructions and attempt to kill the cub. ’Tis not my fault that our agents could not account for her presence.”

“I hope you are not then implying that this is my fault,” Tribune Taro, head of all Ravens on the continent, retorted. “You and yours are meant to keep us up-to-date with information and intelligence. You failed in that utterly, with regards to the precise arrangements at the base! He was kept in the commander’s stateroom, not the holding cells as you originally claimed! That made it far more difficult to approach undetected!”

The sub-Praetor shrugged in the face of her anger. “Even we can’t know all the inner workings of an Equestrian outpost, Tribune. We gave you the best information we had available. And your Ravens should be adaptable enough to track their quarry through such a small area even without our aid!”

“Enough!” The Consul snarled them both silent, and then spelled it out. “Your orders, both of you, were to kill the boy and leave no trace of your presence! The sleeper agents failed spectacularly, and your vaunted Ravens not only failed as well, but they allowed one of their number to be captured!” he spat out the word with disgust.

“Because you sent them to do the impossible!” Taro shot back. “When the Owls’ pets failed to do the job, we had no choice but to step in ourselves with little time or preparation before they moved him again under heavier guard! They were forced to take chances they normally never would! Your foolish orders to kill him quickly and at all costs resulted in the deaths of six of my best assassins!”

“Who couldn’t even slay two ponies and a fledgling boy,” I dripped contempt from the shadows behind the Consul. ’Twas out of turn for me, but I could hardly not point that out.

She turned to glare at me, fury in her eyes. “Those two ponies were a Royal Guardsmare and a Black Lance!” she corrected me. “Even you wouldst have had trouble with them, Talaeus! And thanks to your master’s utter idiocy in ordering this exercise, their entire base was already on alert, making stealth all but impossible!” Her wings twitched in anger, and then she pointed an accusing talon right at Gaius. “I say this debacle is on your head, Consul Gaius! I hold you responsible for their loss and will take it up with the Empress herself if needs be!”

The Consul’s eyes narrowed. One did not challenge him and expect to not be challenged in return, so both I and the sub-Praetor stepped back, anticipating a duel. I would guard the Consul from assassins, but not from questions of ability and honor. This battle was one he would have to fight himself as the pair began to circle each other with lowered heads, wings flared and hackles raised.

But before the gauntlet could be thrown, a low but growing rumble was heard in the background. “My lords, ’tis not the time to settle such matters. I believe the ponies are about to retaliate,” Janus announced in an urgent tone, staring outside as a sudden breeze came through the open balcony door he was standing beside to ruffle our fur and feathers.

“Let them.” I shrugged, wondering what the noise was. I would have thought it distant thunder, except it was too continuous. “We have the border watched closely and a dozen legions available, whilst they have but five half-strength divisions—only one of which is pegasus. They have not the numbers to threaten us, so any effort they could mount with their meager frontier forces would only result in their own annihilation.”

The Owl shook his head sharply, suddenly appearing genuinely afraid and when he spoke, there was an audible tremor in his voice. “You presume, Centurion, that they would respond conventionally…” his voice trailed off as the rumble deepened, growing closer, the outside light getting rapidly darker and the wind picking up quickly as well. “And I fear that this time, they are responding in a most unconventional manner!” He gestured towards the balcony with a shaking paw.

Blinking, the rest of us stepped out on the balcony to behold…

A roiling, black and very dangerous-looking thunderhead descending with great speed on Raptor Base out of the west; its base shot through with lightning and massive anvil structure twisting visibly like a top. This was no storm conjured by nature, not in this part of the continent and so far out of season; a supercell of this sheer size and terrifying power could only have been created by the pegasus brigade at Gamma.

The scene outside was one of panic as gryphons scrambled to reach cover or flee their guard towers, only to be swept up in sudden hurricane winds or worse, struck down in the open by massive bolts of lightning or pummeled in flight by large hail as the storm overtook the base.

“Ancestors preserve us!” I wasn’t certain who said that, and in mere moments, it didn’t matter as Tartarus itself descended upon us.


Greetings to you, the readers of this growing tale. ’Tis now time for me to add my own voice to the chorus.

I am Fell Flight, and I served under Firefly for many years, acting as her second and right-hoof mare. My full tale will be told another time, but for now, I wish to relate a simple story of my future Captain and her new gryphon friend. ’Twas but the evening after their talk, and we had received word of our retaliation against the gryphons. I was only sorry we would not take part in it, for I would have loved to help create such an elegant and very Equestrian instrument of destruction with my own wings and hooves.

It may seem callous, but at the time I had no love for the gryphons, believing them from long experience and a score of separate engagements to be a race of evil and irredeemable savages. As such, I could not fathom why my new commander, whom I had quickly come to respect, saw fit to treat our captive so well. Sixteen ponies had died in the raid he took part in; six more guarding him under EIS orders, which I would have quite happily ignored if it was me.

“Commander, I have to ask… why?” I queried plaintively when we were alone later that evening, standing watch over the canyon in case the Empire attempted a vengeance strike of their own for what were certain to be terrible casualties at their targeted base. We would be both relieved and disappointed, however, as none came. “Why wouldst you offer him friendship and place his life above those of our own kind?”

“I do not place him above us, Sergeant,” she corrected me with a reproachful look, “I simply believe his life has worth. And in truth… methinks I understand him.”

That caught me short. “Understand him, ma’am?”

She seemed to be searching for words for a moment. “When we entered that room and I beheld him there crying and alone… I saw not an enemy, but a lost and desperate soul,” she began. “In fact, in that moment, I daresay I saw myself in him. Not me as I was, but myself as I might have been, if I had no help and nopony to take care of me growing up. If I had no friends and no hope.

“If I had nowhere to turn and no way to fulfill my dreams, living only to survive another day.” She closed her eyes tightly in pain for a moment. “And in that instant, I thought to myself… there, but for the grace of Celestia, go I. And I could not but pity him.” Swiftly, she related the full story of the young gryphon that Agent Artemis had told her, and ’twould be a lie to say that it did not give me some pause as well.

When the tale was finished, leaving us both subdued, she went on. “I thought I was unlucky in life, but now I know what unlucky truly means. We revile him for his race and actions, Sergeant, but were I in his place? I cannot say I would have done any differently, and thus, I cannot condemn him. He does not wish us ill now; of that you can be certain. And if we are to understand what secret he may hold that his own kind would wish him dead, then ’twould behoove us to make him want to help us, as opposed to just seek to placate us. Methinks we will get more information out of him that way.”

I frowned. “Then this offer a friendship ’tis but a ruse?”

“Not at all,” she told me, shaking her head sharply. “For me to lie about that would be to dishonor friendship and Harmony itself. No, my friend. The offer ’twas real. I empathize with him and wish to help him. To give him the chance I had—that to know friendship; to learn and grow. And yes, I believe he can learn and grow, just as I once did when I found my first friend. I will show him by example that we ponies do not have to be his enemies, and in so doing, perhaps we sow the seeds for future fruits.”

“Ma’am, he is a gryphon,” I felt compelled to point out again. “He knows nothing of friendship or Harmony, and ’tis doubtful to me at best that a predatory and warlike race such as his could ever learn them. So why, in the name of all we hold sacred, wouldst you risk your career and base for his sake?”

She turned to me and smiled in response. It would be a long time before I knew why, and longer still before I truly understood the meaning of her next words:

“Is that not what friends do?”


I awoke underneath a pile of debris, the lingering rain making light pinging sounds as it hit my armor.

’Twas the only reason the Consul and I were still alive; conscious of my duty to protect him, I had done so the only way I could—by flinging myself over him as the storm descended. Talaeus armor was enchanted, but even it had been severely taxed. My onyx helm and breastplate showed large cracks and chips in their polished surface and as my senses returned, I realized I was bleeding profusely from my face and flank.

Such minor matters could wait, however, as I helped the Consul up. He had survived with bruises from flying debris and odd hailstone hits only, but the others had not been so lucky. Tribune Taro lay dead, impaled gruesomely by a splintered wooden rafter and several smaller shards. On the other side of the room huddled in a corner, sub-Praetor Janus lay moaning, alive but badly battered, lying on his side with only a few shreds of his cloak still stuck to him, clutching the remains of a smoking stave.

We did not know he was a Magus, and the shield he had conjured had barely been enough to save him. But he had burned out his stave and all his power to protect himself, and even then just barely, leaving him suffering magical exhaustion along with his myriad wounds.

Carrying him on my back, we flew out of the remains of the Consul’s legate office in a daze, turning to see the now-retreating and visibly weakening storm still plowing east. There was nothing we could do about it; we could only pray it had lost sufficient strength by the time it found a town.

As the trailing rain cleared off and the sun re-emerged, almost in mockery, we could see that the base was wrecked, with most of the buildings and towers toppled; even those that weren’t had their walls and windows blown out.

The initial tempest with its barrage of lightning and hurricane-driven hailstones the size of a gryphon fist was bad enough, but far worse was the large tornado that descended from its parent storm. It had carved a swath of destruction straight through the heart of the base, taking out several major buildings and countless gryphons who had taken shelter in them. Only our ancestors, or blind luck, had spared most of the healer huts, which were now overwhelmed with casualties.

We didn’t know it yet, but several hundred soldiers had died with countless more injured, and our exhausted magus healers were trying to keep that toll from going higher. Passing through the triage field, we found one eagless who had half her feathers blown off by a direct lightning strike, and though she miraculously lived, she now bore a terrible scar against her bare skin. We soon came upon another Talon tiercel who had been plucked clean by the sheer strength of the vortex and then flayed alive by debris; even the Consul seemed touched when the maimed earth gryphon managed a shaky salute as he passed.

We did what we could to restore order to the broken base and see to the wounded, summoning additional soldiers from adjacent areas to secure our section of the border if the ponies decided to strike us in our weakened state. ’Twas what we would have done, after all, but no attack came. When we had accomplished all we could, ’twas the darkest hours of the morning and we stood again in the wind-gutted remains of his office; the stone floor still stained with Taro’s blood.

We stared out over the wreckage, tents now housing the remains of the legion stationed here, hundreds of fires burning to provide warmth to the wounded in the cold winter air. The mare in the moon looked down at us; I could have sworn I saw her eye glint in mocking laughter for a moment.

I cursed her and all ponies for the ruin they had visited upon us that day. Too weak to challenge us in honorable combat, they had resulted to this cowardly means of recompense for raids that had only inflicted a fraction of this cost, and I swore vengeance for it.

In contrast to my dark mood, Consul Gaius said nothing. At length, he went to the remains of his upended desk and pulled out a fresh bottle of rum from a hidden compartment, followed by two intact bowls. He poured one for both of us, and I accepted mine without comment, downing half of it in one draw—for if there was ever a time to drink, it was now.

Still, I was worried about the Consul’s state of mind, uncertain what thoughts were going through his head. “My Lord?” I asked him cautiously as he stared out over the wreckage of Raptor.

“Taro was right. ’Tis my fault. I gave a foolish order, and we paid a heavy price for it, Centurion Kaval,” he told me quietly. “By our ancestors and the blood of those slain, I swear I will atone.”

“Our forces will want vengeance,” I reminded him. “I want vengeance, sir!”

“We will have it,” he promised me, his eyes glittering and beak set. “On that, I give you my word.”

Author's Note:

“Violence never solves anything”, we’re told over and over. Except when it does. Take it from me, folks, turning the other cheek to a bully NEVER works, and was the worst advice I ever got as a kid. In the end, even Celestia realizes this. The ponies are peaceful, but even they can be pushed too far as the gryphons just found out.

Thanks to Denim_Blue, AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire for prereads—as always, I have a blast just reading the comments you guys put on the google doc—and James Cyberlink for musical selections. A special thanks goes to Leo Archon for contributing the better part of the Aftermath section and adding his own touches to several others, improving them greatly. We work well together.

And lastly, a special shout-out to The Voice himself, TheGoldCrow, voice of Phoenix Wright in Turnabout Storm, in thanks for his shout-out to me on his youtube channel after I gave him running commentary on his Kid Icarus Uprising playthru narration. I was honored and it was greatly appreciated. You’re invited to check out his channel, as well as the other case he’s been voicing Phoenix Wright in—Operation Turnabout.

PreviousChapters Next