Interlude #2, Part 3: Eye for an Eye
As I read over the previous two chapters and write this final one, I find many old memories awakened. Memories of the filly I once was, of friends made and lost, and of the events that would mold me into the mare I became. ’Tis a treasured chapter of my life, one that would set many things in motion and eventually lead me to a fateful meeting with my future friend and Captain.
’Tis the birth of a soldier, and the making of a warrior that this tale will now relate. A trial by fire, and a fight for acceptance from a Corps and comrades that would only give it grudgingly. ’Twas also a time when I truly accepted my dual nature, though I yet had no knowledge of how important ‘twould one day be.
First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral Emissary
Thestral Conclave, Canterlot
A hard lesson I had to learn repeatedly was that there are rarely quick fixes in life.
I was shown it once when I was rejected by the thestrals, and I had to learn it many more times before it finally sunk in. ’Tis now certain to me that even if destiny exists, it does not simply get served to you; a pony must work towards it with all their heart and soul, accepting many setbacks and missteps along the way.
’Tis how we learn and grow, facing our fears and accepting failure, until we finally learn enough to overcome the obstacles we face and reach the place we were meant to be.
I awoke from surgery late that day, very groggy and bleary-eyed. The problem was, the bleariness didn’t go away. I wasn’t fully aware of it at first, but then again I couldn’t see much of anything as my eyes were nearly swollen shut, and there was considerable pain in them. “Fell Flight? Can you hear me?” Iris Aid called to me. As sluggish as my wits were, it took some time for her words to register, and when they finally did, all I could manage was a weak nod. “’Tis over, child. Rest now,” she told me gently, giving me the same kiss on the forehead she had just before putting me under.
“You there, filly?” Topsail’s voice called out to me, etched with concern. My only response was to reach out for him with my hoof, which he instantly took. “Can I stay with her, ma’am?” he asked.
“Of course,” I heard the smile in her voice. “The sedation magic is wearing off, but her body and aura need time to heal now. I will cast a sleep and painkilling spell on her so she can rest.”
“Wait…” I finally managed to speak. “Did it… work…?” I had to know, my fears growing as all I could see was a hazy blue blur. Was the General right? Had I been blinded? In my zeal to make things better, had they now become irrevocably worse…?
Methinks I was worried when she hesitated for a moment, but I later realized she was trying to find a way to be both truthful and reassuring. “’Tis too soon to tell, child. We must now wait and give your eyes time to adjust and heal,” she told me, echoing the warnings she had shared before putting me under. “’Twould likely be a week or two before we know. In the meantime, your only task is to rest. I must do so myself now after so much magic expenditure, but I will leave you in the care of one of my assistants… and your attentive coltfriend,” she said with what I had a vague sense was a grin, casting the final spell on me.
The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was him asking for a second recovery bed to be brought in so he could sleep beside me.
* * * * *
I woke up the next morning to a surprise—the presence of my parents and Thunderbolt, who had traveled all night to get there. They were all worried sick and a bit hurt I hadn’t told them, but they were equally relieved to see I was okay, expressing surprise and no little delight that I had apparently found myself a coltfriend. I apologized, saying I didn’t want them to worry; immediately after saying that, I realized how foalish it was and accepted their tearful hugs. They’d even brought two of my younger sisters, Morning Glory and Heat Wave, who were amazed at my change in eye color. The former pronounced it ‘wicked’ whilst the latter asked Iris Aid if she could have ruby implants to turn her eyes red.
Were I to say that the operation went smoothly, Iris Aid would no doubt agree. However, there was a vast difference between looking through an external crystal lens, and actually having it as part of me. It took nearly a month after the operation before I became fully accustomed to the implants and the small drain they put on my natural magical field. In the meantime not only was my vision blurry, but my very power of flight suffered somewhat; with my innate pegasus magic now constantly tapped to power the spell, I found that even after recovery, I was at least slightly slower and had noticeably less stamina in the air.
Iris had to tweak the enchantment a few times, too, to help the blurriness and ensure my vision was not suffering at distance as it had before. I did have a few shaky moments when things seemed to get worse, not better, but thankfully all were fleeting; by the time that month was over, there could be no doubt that the implants worked. The blurriness faded to its previous crispness, and to Iris Aid’s surprise, my body seemed to adapt itself to work with the lenses, my innate magic somehow making them part of me, taking its spell and effects as its own. “Methinks I’m going to submit an article on you to the Canterlot Magic Academy Journal!” she promised me at one point, saying she considered me her greatest triumph as an eye healer.
Such thoughts paled in comparison, however, to the simple fact that within a few weeks more, my eyes had almost completely adjusted. Nearly fully recovered, I spent an entire sunny day with Topsail in one of Baltimare’s bayshore parks, and suffered not a twinge of pain or vertigo. In truth, methinks I spent the entire day wandering around in amazement, finally seeing all I had been missing before. The sun-glittered ocean, the deep blue and white of the sky, even the masts of ships coming from over the horizon were all visible to me now, my eyes turning emerald-green in the sunlight but reverting to nearly their original gold in darkness. To Iris Aid’s surprise, my eyes and aura outright fused with the crystals and, having fully assimilated them, I also regained my previous power of flight, which I put to use by showing up the naval pegasi, flying their base obstacle course in record time.
When all was said and done, ’twas certain the procedure had been successful. Day had become as night to me now, and I found myself nearly as at home in it.
Upon my return to Cloudsdale—and ’twas certain I was badly torn over leaving Topsail, but he could hardly follow me there—I submitted my renewed application to the Corps with just a few days to spare before the deadline to enter the next training class, two months later. The healer who performed my physical was the same as my first attempt, and she smiled brightly as this time I passed even the vision test with flying colors.
Whilst waiting, I trained with Thunderbolt at his own insistence. “If I know Squall Line, he won’t let you in without a fight. He’ll allow you into basic, but he’s going to try to make it as hard for you as possible. Methinks he’ll try to make you quit however he can,” he warned me, saying he wanted me as tough and battle-ready as possible even before starting. So we got together in the evenings after school and my day job was out, the former Lieutenant spending a couple hours each night and one day a weekend teaching me grappling, hoof-to-hoof and wingblade combat, using a dull-edged training pair he’d somehow procured.
’Twas not only fighting that he instructed me in during those two months; he also taught me tactics and how to speak the gryphon tongue. I had studied it on my own for many months before my first attempt to enlist, in hopes that it would make me a more attractive soldier candidate to the Corps. Already quite fluent in it himself, Thunderbolt agreed it would be a good skill for me to have, noting you just never knew when it might be useful whilst stationed on the border. By the time I returned to the Corps, I was ’about as fluent as anypony,’ according to Thunderbolt, though ’twas certain I could never have passed for a native speaker.
’Twas also certain Thunderbolt was as punishing a combat instructor as he was as patient a teacher at the Remedial Flyers’ camp, and I oft ended up coming home bruised and battered for it. He was not gentle with me, and yet, even then ’twas certain to me he was actually holding back his full strength and skill. To this day, in fact, methinks if he had accepted Squall Line’s initial offer of a wingblade duel, he’d’ve won quite easily even a decade removed from his last time in combat.
He never opened up to me about that last time, save once. With nary a week before my return to Fort Stratus, we stopped training, the former and future Lieutenant telling me that now was the time to rest and heal in advance of entering basic. The night before ’twas time for me to leave, we had dinner together, his treat—he’d even procured a fish from somewhere, and to my great surprise, ate it with me. “’Tis a dirty little secret that we ponies can eat meat, Fell Flight. The pegasi of old certainly did,” he told me with a grin.
Good food and some expensive apple ale loosened lips, so I asked him what combat was like. “’Tis an adrenaline rush like no other,” he told me. “’Tis terrifying yet exhilarating, for you never feel so alive as when you come so close to death…” he said almost wistfully, then blinked as if he’d caught himself, his entire manner and mood suddenly changing. “’Tis not to be loved or desired, ever, Fell Flight. For even if you survive it, it will taint you. Forever change you, and not for the better,” he told me quickly. “To take lives and see friends fall… ’tis a terrible thing. No less so for it being necessary in the face of Equestria’s enemies.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of all that; the mood swing he’d just had. “I just hope I’m ready.”
“’Tis certain no trainee has ever been more ready,” he told me with surety. “If and when the time comes, you’ll do fine. Fear not.”
“Well, I’ve had a good trainer,” I complimented him, then studied him for a moment in the evening light, my crystal lens only partially darkened with the coming of dusk, turning my eyes midway between gold and green. “Sir? If I may ask a personal question…?” as part of our training, I had been addressing him in a military manner; he insisted on observing military protocols to get me fully used to them and obeying orders—’twould be a lie, after all, to say I still didn’t have trouble doing that.
He looked up at me for a moment. “Methinks you may.”
“Well, I’d just like to know…” I fidgeted a bit nervously, worried I was about to stray into dangerous territory, memories he did not want to recall. I still don’t know what compelled me to ask, except that he seemed to want to open up now. “Why did you leave the Corps, sir?”
His eyes got distant, and he didn’t immediately reply. He then pulled out from his school instructor vest… a single medal. It hung from a red and black ribbon and was carved from pure silver, upon the front of which was ensconced… “Is that a dove?” I asked him, studying it as he held it in his hoof.
“Aye,” he nodded gravely, suddenly somber. “’Tis the Dove of Fidelity. The one award no soldier ever wants to receive,” he told me, and for a moment I thought I saw glistening in his eyes. “’Tis only given… to sole survivors of attacks and ambushes. To have it means all your comrades, all your friends, everypony in your unit you knew and loved… are dead.” He stared off into the distance, lost in brooding memories.
I stayed silent—for what could I say to that?—waiting for him to continue, but not pressing him to do so. “I keep this with me at all times, Fell Flight. To never forget them, or what happened that day. To never forget what they meant to me… or what their loss did to me. To remind myself to honor their memories with life instead of avenging them with further bloodshed and death.”
“’Tis that, then, why you left?” I guessed. “You were losing yourself in vengeance…?”
His eyes squeezed tightly shut for a moment, and for the first time I heard a catch in his voice. “Aye,” he confirmed again, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. “’Twas not mere vengeance, though. ’Twould be more appropriate to say I lost myself in bloodlust, slaying every gryphon I could find—even those who were not a threat,” he told me grimly, whilst I listened, aghast. “In the retaliatory operation that followed that attack, I discovered I had a true talent for killing, and worse… I enjoyed it. I gained an unquenchable thirst for bloodshed and killing became as normal and natural for me as breathing. The gryphons called me demon and put a bounty on my head as I took life without compunction or mercy, even as I told myself that I was doing it for the sake of my former friends.
“I never gave a thought to the fact that ’twas not the right way to do so… until I had a terrible dream one night where I was drowning in blood, killing not just gryphons but fellow ponies. And amongst their bodies… were those of my former friends, dead by my own hooves!”
He took a ragged breath, and ’twas several moments before he could go on. “’Twas then those friends awoke from where they lay, each begging me to stop, telling me I was on the verge of losing myself completely and becoming that very demon that the gryphons called me. That they wanted me to live and be happy again, but I would never find peace like this. That to continue on my current course would only lead to even more pain and suffering, and they could not rest in peace to see what had become of me.
“And they were right,” he said as tears began welling in his eyes. “’Twas only then I realized just how far I had fallen, and how much of myself I had lost. That I was now no better, and in some ways even worse than the raiders that had slain my friends. So I quit the Corps the very next day, leaving that life behind, seeking to salvage what little remained of my soul. I swore on my knees and the love for my friends that I would be a better pony, and ’twas why I chose to teach at the Remedial Flyers school. ’Twas my hope that by doing so—by helping troubled young ponies fly and find themselves—I would find some measure of peace and penance.”
“And have you?” I asked, fearing the answer. “For all you have done for me and so many other ponies, I would say yes!” I offered hopefully.
He smiled wanly. “Thank you, Fell Flight. But methinks ’tis not that simple,” he sighed again. “Perchance I have gained some small measure of atonement over the past ten years. But methinks what I told you back in my office that day holds true—that there is so much blood on my hooves it can never wash away,” he told me sadly. “Worse, violence and bloodletting is an addiction for me. I crave it, even now. And thus, I fear if I ever return to it... I will be undone and become that demon again. So all I can do now is stay as far away from that life as possible and try to help as many ponies as I can. All I can do now is try to do good… and pray that the sun and moon goddesses will come to accept my repentance along with the spirits of my dead friends,” he told me, then turned his haunted eyes on me.
“So heed these words and heed them well, Fell Flight. If you enter the Corps, there will come a time when you will face this trial yourself. A time when you will see your friends and fellow ponies fall before you, and your heart will scream for vengeance.” He took my hoof in his own. “At all costs, resist it. Kill in combat, kill in defense of Equestria and other ponies if you must. But never kill for sport or pleasure. Never give into revenge or bloodlust. ’Tis a very dark sky to fly, and ’tis one even your eyes will lose sight in,” he warned me. “Be a good and honorable soldier. Train well and become the warrior ’tis now certain to me you are meant to be…” he trailed off as he gave my hoof a squeeze, raising his haunted eyes to meet mine.
“And above all else, please be a better pony than me.”
Touched yet troubled beyond words, I did the only thing I could think of. I took him into my embrace, and stayed with him that night, holding him and giving his wounded heart what little comfort I could.
A week later found me trotting through the gates of Fort Stratus for a second time, my parents, Thunderbolt and even Topsail himself seeing me off properly… the latter sending me off properly the night before, and all promising to return for my graduation. ’Twas only after the gates closed that I found, to my surprise, that Rolling Thunder was not the training officer I was assigned to this time.
’Twas understandable in hindsight; having developed a liking for me, he couldn’t train me dispassionately. I was instead grouped under an older mare who had a reputation as one of the toughest trainers in the Corps; a highly decorated combat veteran they had previously used for problem recruits or to bring up the performance of subpar soldiers. A severe-looking sand-and-cream colored mare with a dust devil cutie mark who was a recent graduate of the Equestrian Officer Academy, she had, until recently, ran the Corps equivalent of the Remedial Flyers’ camp I participated in years earlier as a foal, and had apparently been recalled to Fort Stratus by Squall Line for the express purpose of training and testing me. Her combat exploits made her a minor legend, some of the other Corps trainees told me; by her reputation and manner alone I would not have placed odds on the outcome of a fight between her and Thunderbolt.
“I am Second Lieutenant Sirocco!” she told us as she introduced herself, her gold single-bar rank insignia gleaming in the sun and caustic personality making clear she was just as abrasive as the desert sands she wore the colors of. “And as far as you hatchlings are concerned, I am your princess! Your sun and moon!” she told us as she stalked down the line, taking pains to pick on each trainee in turn, most of whom wilted before her withering gaze and wit.
When she got to me, she sneered. “And just what has happened to my Corps that they’re letting in bucking bat-ponies now?” she snarled, going on to ask me if I needed a cot or would just be hanging upside-down from the barracks rafters to sleep. ’Twas certain, I thought, that she shared Squall Line’s dislike for me, as she never left me alone for a moment after that, constantly berating and criticizing me, much as Windshear did for Firefly. More than once I nearly challenged her to a duel despite the sense that by doing so I would be biting off far more meat than I could chew; ’twas only the remembered advice of Thunderbolt and thoughts of Topsail that kept my temper in check.
Not helping matters was the fact that I was in the same training group as one of my old schoolyard tormentors, who I could have sworn was conspiring with the Second Lieutenant to wash me out early. After me from day one, she quickly became the leader of the anti-thestral pegasi of the company and goaded me frequently, her new gang calling me names and sabotaging my efforts where they could—everything from kicking over my bucket when I was mopping the floors to stealing my things, or failing that, consistently trying to one-up me in anything I did.
Having had quite enough of this after the first five weeks, I challenged her to a duel, wherein she tried her old trick of attempting to blind me before beating me. This ended with my old rival out cold on the ground; having thought me dazzled by a purloined flash gem she had illegally brought, she rushed right into my haymaker and ended up spending the next week in the infirmary with a shattered jaw. The rest of her eight-pony gang fared no better when they tried to ambush me that evening, variously ending up with broken teeth, limbs, and wings.
’Twas a foalish choice for several reasons; not the least of which was that they tried to attack me at night. Besides, methinks I’d had enough bar brawls with earth ponies by then that average pegasus strength was nothing to me. Couple that with Thunderbolt’s training and the fact they were trying to engage me in darkness, and ’twas certain they stood nary a chance. Within a minute all were down and admittedly ’twas all I could do not to deal them permanent injury for their sneak attack.
If anything marked a turning point in my training, ’twas that night. I had single-hoofedly defeated eight fellow pegasi, who were discharged along with my former rival by direct order of Colonel Freefall—at Sirocco’s recommendation, to my great surprise.
When they protested, saying they were ’just trying to preserve the pony purity’ of the Corps, Freefall reminded them of the Corps motto, saying I had just as much right to be there as they did, and thus far, I had proven a far better soldier than they. They then demanded I be kicked out too, saying I couldn’t be trusted with such combat skill as the Corps was teaching me, but Sirocco’s response was simple and devastating, and even more impressive given the pressure she was apparently being put under by Squall Line to wash me out:
“She took your worst, and won. She’s met every challenge and done everything asked of her; she didn’t retaliate to all your provocations until you forced her to. General Squall Line told me to press her until she broke, but she hasn’t, and thus I’m left with one inescapable conclusion: that she is a soldier and a good one.
“But methinks you are nothing more than a bunch of bigots and bullies,” she informed them. “The Corps is built on a culture of camaraderie and trust; the promise of all soldiers watching each other’s back—not stabbing them in it! If you cannot be trusted as trainees to take care of each other, you can hardly be trusted to do so as soldiers!” she announced, personally throwing the group out of basic on their collective flanks.
Though I had clearly misjudged her; ’twas not to say she let up on me. She was clearly cut from the same cloth as Thunderbolt, fulfilling the same role as Windshear to my future Captain in that she was determined to make sure I’d be ready for anything from gryphon raiders to bigoted and overbearing officers. She was hard on me, but I knew by then she was doing it for me, and having gained great respect for her, I obeyed all her instructions without question.
My fellow trainees never fully accepted me but I refused to let that get to me; I continued through basic training with no further incidents to speak of. I was well above average in most areas, and even excelled in some, particularly the night combat drills we held during the final four weeks of basic, proving myself able to best both fellow recruits and trainers alike.
And yet, despite my unquestioned abilities, when I graduated, I did so as a private; I received an apologetic note from Sirocco saying she’d recommended me for Corporal but had been overruled “by those with more stars than me.” I was now more certain than ever that Squall Line had taken grievous offense to being blackmailed into accepting me, and was doing his best behind the scenes to either wash me out of the Corps, or force me to leave on my own initiative. Still, I said nothing about it to anypony; I even accepted my first assignment without a hint of complaint, despite the danger inherent in it.
I was being deployed to Outpost Omega, one of our foremost border bases, and one that was under constant gryphon threat.
Outpost Omega was second in size and importance only to Outpost Gamma, the latter being the headquarters of the Corps’ Fifth Division and command center for operations along the entire length of the pony/gryphon border.
Sitting midway between Gamma and Delta but located more than a hundred miles northeast of both, Omega was more a fortress than an outpost, sitting atop a sharp bend in the border canyon that essentially left it open to attack from three sides. Though badly exposed, ’twas critical for defending several new pony settlements behind it, each garrisoned by an Equestrian Army company for additional defense.
Home to a reinforced battalion, only the very best Corps veterans were normally assigned to this base, as the land it sat on was disputed territory and the threat of gryphon attack there was second to none.
Whilst some Corps graduates would have thought such a first assignment a major compliment, I knew better. Somepony did not want me around, and ’twas no doubt in my mind who. Thunderbolt was particularly outraged when he heard the news, planning to march down to Headquarters immediately and “throw that Luna-damned general out of his office with a lightning bolt!”
I told him no—that this was just another obstacle thrown in my way, and I would defeat it as I had all the others. He shook his head sharply at that—“That base is no picnic, Private—’tis the most dangerous posting we have! If he’s sending you there, ’tis in hope you do not survive!” he warned me—but I still held firm, saying that if surviving it was the only way to prove myself to the General and the entire Corps, I would take it gladly, asking him not to share his fears with my parents.
“Though if I do get killed, feel free to send him to Tartarus to join me!” I invited, and he managed a smile at that, promising he would. But also extracting a promise from me that I would not let it come to that.
Gallows humor aside, I had thought that being so far from Squall Line would remove me from his sphere of influence. I quickly learned, to my dismay, that I was dreadfully mistaken. The base commander, a mare named Master Sergeant Downdraft (an alias, I was certain), seemed to be just as set against my presence in the Corps as the general, and gave me menial, degrading tasks that I was certain were meant to humiliate me.
In that, I’m happy to say that said tasks were only partially successful—whilst some of the veterans hazed me and had a laugh at my expense, many more seemed sympathetic to my plight, a hatchling that had all but been thrown to the timberwolves. I indeed made a few friends there among the rank-and-file, though less for that than the fact I quickly proved I could hold my own with the best of them and then some.
My first time in combat was a fairly routine affair, insomuch as combat can be. A month after my arrival, seventy gryphon raiders descended on the base from three different directions. ’Twas a probe more than a genuine attack as they seemed to be merely testing our defenses; casualties were few and there were no fatalities as they made no real effort to assault the base.
I did not truly bloody my hooves in that fight, as they were not about to send a new hatchling into battle where she might be a danger to not only herself but to veteran soldiers; I was instead sent to guard the medical wing of the base, which was actually underground. That did not mean I saw no action, however—’twould seem that the intent of the raid was a feint to distract from a smaller group that was infiltrating the base in an attempt to steal supplies.
I found that out when I encountered a group of three raiders attempting to gain access to the healer supply rooms. I ambushed them as they turned a corner in the darkness, laying them out with hoofstriker hits to the head, giving me my first look at real gryphons.
’Twould be a lie to say I was impressed. They all seemed too young, rather skinny and bedraggled, wearing old mismatched armor and bearing swords and other weapons that had seen better days. They were untrained and undisciplined; they’d made so much noise trying to gain entry I could hear them an entire corridor away.
So these were the creatures that were Equestria’s greatest enemies? They hardly seemed worth their reputation or the fear we had of them.
I regret I would rue those thoughts before very long.
My capture of the three young raiders earned me some acclaim, if rather grudging in the case of my flight leader and base commander. It turned out the threesome had been anything but their best; they had been sent to raid our healer supply rooms for anything of value, and if possible, kidnap at least one pony; the EIS took them to Gamma for further interrogation and we heard no more of them after.
After six weeks of being there and given little in the way of real duties or trust, they finally consented to sending me out on patrol with the rest of my squad. Or so it seemed as I reasoned that even Master Sergeant Downdraft could not justify leaving me without flight experience for longer than that.
My flight consisted of three veteran mares, all Sergeant or above, as well as myself. Thankfully, two were mares who had taken a liking to me, only the leader, Flight Sergeant Stuka, was in the same camp as the base commander. Oddly, ’twas her who insisted that I take point on the patrol.
I protested my inexperience, but she assured me that it would be perfectly fine. “You wish to be accepted as one of us? You have to prove yourself out here,” she told me with a sly grin. “Take point, bat-pony. Let’s see what you can do…”
I didn’t like the idea of having her behind me, but with two friends there as well, I decided ’twas no real danger. In hindsight, I should have realized ’twas fully meant to be a trap. We had just reached our furthest point from the outpost when I was struck hard across the back of the head, my conscious mind leaving me. I was vaguely aware of being caught by Stuka, who wore a sneering grin. “That’s what you get, bat-pony, for trying to convince us we could trust you.”
“Flight Sergeant!” one of the other two gasped. “This isn’t right!”
“’Tis by direct order of the commander,” Stuka retorted, her voice fading in and out with my senses. “She wants this thestral trash dealt with before she betrays us. We’re just going to make it look like an accident...”
I lost consciousness completely after that, waking up to find myself on the wrong side of the canyon, nearly sixty miles from base with a splitting headache and the sun starting to set. My dismay increased when I realized I’d been stripped of my uniform, weapons, and all my gear; even my canteen and field rations were gone.
I was abandoned and alone, on the wrong side of a simmering border and had no adequate means of defense; ’twas only sheer luck that a gryphon patrol or raider group hadn’t already found me and taken me prisoner or worse. My first priority was to get back to base, so I clambered shakily to my hooves and set off, flying low and slow so that my headache wouldn’t send me to the ground.
’Twas mere happenstance that I even saw the raiders an hour later as I turned a corner in the canyon. Ducking behind an outcropping, I looked for my flightmates or any passing patrol, only to remember I was alone. I mentally kicked myself anew for trusting the words of a pony in Squall Line’s camp, but kept an eye on the gryphons. There were only six of them, which I thought strange; to assault a fortification of Omega’s size, far more would be needed. I slunk closer to eavesdrop on them, remembering Thunderbolt’s warning to always approach Gryphons from downwind.
“Should we really be this close to their base?” one of them, a tiercel, was asking as I crouched behind a rock, chancing at least one glance in the deepening dusk. Unlike the first gryphons I’d encountered, this group had a lean and mean look to them, experienced adult raiders who were clearly much smarter and stronger than the teenagers I’d encountered before. They were eating a butchered animal, and smelling meat for the first time since I’d been there, my mouth couldn’t help but water. “Patrols are out and ’tis certain we’ll be caught if we linger.”
“’Tis the entire point,” an eagless replied, picking at the grooves of her talons with the edge of a knife. “We are meant to serve as a distraction and delay, whilst the main group smuggles those civilians back to Castrum Meridianum,” she explained, referring to the nearest gryphon frontier town that was also the base for several notable raider groups. By their black cheek markings and beak piercings, I recognized them from briefings as belonging to Master Indala’s group, who were known to be particularly ruthless and cutthroat.
A reputation confirmed as I listened to their conversation, suddenly very glad Thunderbolt had taken the time to teach me. I didn’t understand every word, but could at least follow the bare meaning of what they were saying. “And just why are we risking our lives for a few leaf-eaters?” another eagless asked, disgust evident on her face as she tore a piece of flesh from a bone with her beak. “Methinks they’re worth more in meat than in gems. We should sell them at the markets, not to those bloody Owls.”
“I do not question the Master’s orders, or the coin that comes with,” the first eagless said in annoyance, sheathing her blade. “And neither should you. Now quit stuffing your gullet and get up! We have a job to do.”
“Getting paid doesn’t matter if we get killed,” the tiercel groused to grumbles of agreement from the others, but obeyed, the entire group then pulling on their helmets and buckling on their sword scabbards.
At that moment, I was torn. By the sound of it, they’d taken or were going to take civilian hostages, and that was information I had to get back to base. One option was to fly back immediately, keeping low and darting through the canyons, but by then it might be too late. Another was to blast in there right now, take them all out and beat the answers out of the leader, but even taking them by surprise I would be facing six to one odds against raider veterans and ’twas unlikely at best I would emerge the victor.
No. Be smart, Fell Flight… I told myself, cognizant of my duty to protect other ponies and promise to Thunderbolt I would not get myself killed. And certainly not in my first real engagement!
In the end, though my headache was fading and fighting blood up after the betrayal by my flight leader, I elected on a third, and assuredly far riskier option. I would let this group go, but track the civilians instead and try to rescue them. If they were earth ponies or unicorns, they could not be flown. They would have to be taken by ground, and I knew from maps of the area there was only one road leading from the border to Castrum Meridianum.
I waited until they were out of sight until I took flight, journeying deep into gryphon territory.
* * * * *
Night fell fully but the moon did not shine as on this side of the border, the weather was wild and a storm was moving in. It mattered little to me as a hard rain began to fall, and I chose a lookout perch high on a cliff overlooking the road, where I could see several miles along it once the torrent passed.
Edible brush and grass nonexistent in the normally arid area, I caught a jackalope for food, smashing its head against a rock and then quenched my thirst with rainwater, almost thinking the rain now falling on the desert had been moon-sent. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was being a foal for trying to do this alone, with no backup, armor or wingblades. Flight Sergeant Stuka had probably reported I had deserted or ran away at the first sign of gryphon contact, or perchance just said I was killed. I looked forward to seeing her again when I got back…
If I got back, I corrected myself as I heard a distant rumble of thunder followed by the telltale squawks of gryphons, punctuated by the cries and pleading of frightened ponies.
Captain Firefly has spoken before of why we fight, and how we, as soldiers, face the question of killing. In my case, I had to consider it even before my first battle. Whilst the column approached, several barred wagons containing kidnapped earth pony frontier families huddled inside pulled by earth gryphons and guarded on the ground and in the air by what might have been a score more, I thought about my parents and family, about Thunderbolt and Topsail, about Sirocco and all those who had helped me. I wondered what they would think of me now, trying to take on nearly thirty gryphons by myself…
And what they would think if I got myself killed here, trying to save a few doomed ponies destined for the gryphon slaughter mills or worse. I thought of my mother and father’s grief, never knowing what had happened to me, what it would do to Thunderbolt to lose yet another friend… of never being able to share a bed or a night on the Baltimare docks with Topsail again. Such fears started to dissuade me but then I imagined ’twas my family down there, praying for an unlikely rescue, wondering what was to come of them… or even if they would live to see another dawn.
In the end, ’twas that which gave me resolve; I simply could not abandon them and leave them to gryphon mercy. So instead of visions of grief or mourning, I imagined Thunderbolt was at my side guiding and fighting with me, the future pride of my parents as I returned a hero, the gratitude of the ponies below as they were returned to their homes and loved ones. ’Twas not the warrior fantasy of a foal, ’twas that I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my way home and flight to acceptance lay through that caravan of gryphons…
That more to the point, for the ponies down there, I was now their only hope for deliverance. So with a prayer to Luna herself, I formulated a plan, or tried to. I was a very good brawler, and had taken out eight pegasi in basic even without blades or armor. But I wasn’t facing any then either, and here I’d be taking on nearly thirty armored and experienced gryphon raiders armed with scimitars and crossbows.
The other problem was, Corps combat tactics were designed around fighting in groups in planned patrols and operations, as part of flights and squads. We weren’t assassins like the Black Lances; we fought in the open and not from the shadows, which is what this would require.
So be it, I thought, my jaw set. I decided then and there that if the pegasus side of me was unsuitable for this fight, I would simply call on another part of me…
* * * * *
The first priority of any battle, I’d been told from day one by Thunderbolt, was to gain accurate intelligence. So I circled the caravan a few times well out of sight, trying to get a sense of numbers, weapons and patrol patterns.
Gryphon night vision was said to be quite good, but mine was leagues better, and I could see everything quite clearly, even in a moonless night. There were three pulled wagons strung out in a fifty-yard column, each containing a half dozen ponies crammed in like cattle, guarded by four earth gryphons in front and four in the rear.
There were also several earth gryphons walking or flying alongside and eight sky gryphons flying the equivalent of combat air patrol, their swords and crossbows in easy reach. On the other hoof, they weren’t being that vigilant either in the air or on the ground. I heard plenty of laughter and chatter in celebration of a successful raid, a few poking their captive ponies with blades to make them be quiet or just to hear them beg.
I also heard some suggestions about their disposition that turned my stomach, including some possible uses for the mares in particular that made my jaw clench.
If anypony wonders why I had come to believe the gryphons were irredeemable savages, this first encounter ’tis the reason. From what I could hear, they were planning to sell half to the Office of Owls, who would then interrogate them very ungently for information, whilst the remainder they would keep for meat and… fun. I also caught that they were planning to stop soon for the night, now fifty miles inside of the gryphon border and halfway to Castrum Meridianum, well out of range of Corps pursuit even if they knew where they were… and we would not cross the border unless we did.
So ‘twas up to me. Now that I knew what I was up against, the second priority was one of disguise, and for the first time I wished I was full thestral so I’d have the typical dark coat.
Lacking one, I improvised that by rolling in some mud and then sprinkling dust from a protected rock overhang on my wet wings, turning my wings and hindquarters brown whilst leaving my face and neck white like most of the gryphons were. I glanced at my reflection in a rain puddle, and barely recognized myself, taking pains to cover every piece of white on my wings and lower body I could.
I was ready, and best of all, the gryphons had marked their position quite clearly by lighting some campfires as they stopped for the night. I knew full well by then that there were too many of them for me to take alone, but then again, maybe I didn’t have to? “Sometimes the mere appearance of strength is just as effective as strength itself,” Thunderbolt had once advised me, and ’twas that piece of wisdom that stuck with me here.
Very well, then, but how would I appear to be many when I was but one…?
I spent the next hour readying the scene, going up into the stormy skies repeatedly to gather up lightning-charged clouds, positioning them together in lines around the periphery of the camp… saving a few for precise strikes. They weren’t as malleable or powerful as pegasus-created ones from the Cloudsdale weather factory, certainly packing nowhere near the number of bolts or punch of the military-grade storm clouds we used as distance weapons, but for my purposes, they would do.
My preparations complete, ’twas now time to arm myself for close combat, and the only way I could do so was from my adversaries. Just as a hunter goes for the weak and careless first, I chose my first target accordingly, an older sky gryphon who was flying alone and lagging a bit, sneaking drinks from a flask specially shaped for his beak. I waited until he went for it again before diving on him, impacting his upper spine with both hooves, the adrenaline rush of entering combat giving me extra speed and force. I heard a sickening snap and quickly silenced squawk as his body went limp, falling to the ground below with a soft thump onto rain-softened ground, where I relieved him of his knife and leather armor. ’Twas not the best fit for me, but it would suit as a makeshift disguise and I could use the chest and foreleg protection, at least.
It dimly occurred to me as I stripped him that for the first time, I had killed, my legs and lip trembling briefly with the realization. ’Twas troubling, but I had a job to do, so I blocked it out, knowing that I would have to do far more of it before the night was done. Kill in combat, kill to protect other ponies… Thunderbolt’s words echoed in my head, and I swore to him I would do so and no more.
He was right about one other thing, though. The pure rush it generated was quite heady…
My first target’s absence went unnoticed, so I swiftly slew a second sky gryphon, waiting until after she had called down to her comrades before diving on her, knife in mouth—’twas another of Thunderbolt’s lessons; he’d told me I had to know how to wield gryphon weapons in case they were all that were within reach; we had practiced using ones he’d taken as trophies. Her throat was slashed before she even knew what happened and I took her place in the sky pretending to be her; my white head and chest, leather vest and dirt-browned fur and feathers allowing me to pass as gryphon in low light as long as they didn’t look too closely. Two more sky gryphons fell over the next five minutes to my purloined blade before they realized something was wrong and began calling to their suddenly-missing comrades.
’Twas time for the second part of my plan. So I shot back up into the sky and kicked the first of the clouds I’d lined up, causing a chain reaction that made them release their lightning in a thunderous barrage, half a dozen bolts striking in a line barely fifty feet from their camp.
“It’s the Corps! They found us!” one eagless shouted, all my adversaries looking in every direction for the source of the attack as I shot towards a second bank of clouds on the other side and triggered them, bracketing my quarry with a second round of bolts making it look like multiple pegasus squads had them surrounded.
“But they couldn’t have… ’tis just another passing storm!” her comrade insisted before I gave lie to his statement with a single bolt from a separate cloud that speared his chest, sending him lifeless to the ground. The clouds I’d gathered only contained one bolt, so I quickly shifted to the next in line, taking careful aim and striking an earth gryphon on the ground to make clear I wasn’t neglecting them. That scattered the remainder, the group taking flight into the sky and the dubious safety of darkness; I slew three more with lightning bolts before I ran out of clouds. But they didn’t know that.
“How can they see us? Where are they?” another sky gryphon tiercel called in increasing panic, aiming his crossbow back and forth in darkness, searching frantically as I silently glided down on him—he couldn’t see me, but I could see him.
“Here,” I whispered in his ear through the blade held in my teeth, then slashed the base of his wings, causing him to scream and plummet to his death. His remaining comrades turned towards the shriek, just catching my departing shadow.
“There!” I heard a shout as a crossbow bolt whistled past my ear. “It’s just one pegasus! Kill him! Kill him!” the eagless shouted, perchance thinking me a stallion from my size as she swiftly reloaded another bolt, but by the time she did, I had disappeared into the darkness again.
“It can’t just be one!” another earth gryphon tiercel insisted fearfully, and I did what I could to encourage that impression by blindsiding the eagless who had fired on me, adding her to my growing list of kills with yet another slash to the throat, taking pains to drop her into the middle of a group of grounded earth gryphons.
’Twas the hay straw that broke the horse’s back as the remaining raiders broke and bolted in every direction, fleeing as fast as their wings could carry them. There was clearly no honor among thieves as they fled the scene, abandoning their leader, who called them cowards and then grabbed a young foal out of a cage and held a blade to her throat as he ordered me to show myself, daring me to face him. As he was all that was left, I did so, swooping down and landing before him, stepping into the light of a nearby campfire.
My appearance gave him a start as he saw my cat-eyes glowing with reflected flame. I can only imagine how I must have looked to him in the firelight with flared wings and blood spatters; a demon from Tartarus ready to drag him down to the underworld where he belonged. “What the… what kind of pony are you?” he demanded to know, speaking accented Equish.
“The kind that will kill you if you don’t release her,” I told him in equally accented Aeric.
He stared a moment more, then sneered as he finally figured out what I was. “Is that supposed to scare me, bat-pony?” he asked. “You still haven’t won! I have hostages, and if you don’t surrender like a good little filly, I’m going to slit this little filly’s throat!” he threatened, pushing his blade into her neck hard enough to break the skin, eliciting a trickle of blood and whimper, her mother sobbing as she watched helplessly from the cage.
“Do so and you die,” I told him dispassionately, feeling never more complete as a pony and soldier than I did at that moment, accepting both parts of my being for the first time. “I slew half your gang, and methinks the other half is flying as fast as they can away from here. You’re all alone now. Think I can’t slay you, Master Indala?” I recognized him from the briefings on local raider groups.
He stared at me, then smirked. “Methinks a gryphon just can’t get good help these days,” he finally sneered. “I’ll knock their heads together when I get back to town. In the meantime, methinks I’ll be taking this little one with me!” He took flight with the foal. “Don’t follow, or she dies!”
For the first time in my life, I hissed.
“Save her! Please!” her mother begged me from the cage.
“She can’t!” mocked the tiercel in Equish, holding the whimpering foal closer as he hovered. “Methinks I’ve heard of your kind, bat-pony. ’Tis said you were once servants of The Nightmare and your night vision exceeds ours. Pity for you, it comes with a great vulnerability—that you can be blinded by daylight!” he pointed out.
I sneered at that, suspecting what he was about to do, but deciding to play along in order to give him a final, and very fatal surprise. “Perchance you haven’t noticed, Master Indala, but ’tis night and daylight is hours away. And methinks you can’t fly very fast or far with a hostage.”
“Methinks I won’t have to… with this!” he turned away and squinted as a flash gem suddenly landed and detonated in front of me, directly in my face. My sapphire lenses turned instantly opaque, protecting my vision but for a few small and quickly fading spots, but I made a show of crying out and staggering back, clutching at my eyes whilst taking great pains to fall near a discarded scimitar blade. Certain I was blinded, he took immediate advantage, dropping his hostage and drawing his own sword, charging me, raising it in both sets of talons for a killing strike.
The light fading, my lenses went transparent again, my eyes going from green back to nearly my original gold. Waiting until his sword was at its highest point and he was at his most vulnerable, I grabbed the scimitar with both hooves and shot upwards, aiming it for his neck. I saw his shocked expression as it connected cleanly, separating his head from his body with frightening ease. “Pity for you, I no longer have that vulnerability,” I hovered over and told his severed head, hoping he could see and hear me before he died. “Enjoy your stay in Tartarus, former Master.”
There was silence in the camp as I landed and kicked his head away. Then a great cheer came up from the captive ponies, who I set about freeing. I discarded my disguise as I did so, though there was little I could do about the dirt and blood covering most of my body at the moment. The foal hugged my leg, sobbing, whilst the mother wasn’t far behind, clutching me and thanking me repeatedly.
The one stallion present simply stared at me in disbelief as he held his herd close. “But… why did you come for us? Why did you help us? You’re part thestral!” he recognized.
“That makes me no less a pony,” I told him gathering up the former captives and leading them on the long walk back to the border.
“Who are you, anyway?” asked another foal, staring up at me in awe.
I smiled at her, ruffling her mane with a hoof. “Private Fell Flight, Equestrian Aerial Corps,” I told her proudly, though at that point, I feared I might not have that rank or association for much longer. So be it, I decided. The feeling of utter triumph, of being loved and revered at that moment would last me a lifetime.
It took three days to make the journey back, traveling by night, keeping clear of gryphon patrols. The rains brought the desert land to life quickly, so we ate the swift-growing grasses around the streambeds, and I even convinced the foals to try some fish. To their parents’ chagrin, they liked it, and by the end of it they had come to greatly like me. I learned that the family whose filly I’d rescued directly hailed from Stalliongrad, and had been visiting one of the border towns close to Omega when they were captured.
On reaching the border canyon, I flagged down a passing Corps patrol, thankfully lead by one of the friendlier Flight Sergeants. On seeing me, she lead her flight down, and her expression was one of relief; she had clearly missed me. Explaining the situation, they fetched a sky carriage to bring the civilians up to the base.
On our return to Outpost Omega, the dumbfounded gate sentries directed us to the base commander’s office. As I approached, I heard two unmistakable voices, the pairing of which caused me to smile.
“I am getting tired of your excuses, commander! I want a straight answer!” thundered the voice of Second Lieutenant Sirocco. “What happened to Private Fell Flight?!”
“As I have repeatedly stated, ’twould seem she deserted, ma’am,” she answered without a hint of regret or sorrow. “Flight Sergeant Stuka says she broke and ran at the first sight of gryphons. I would be happy to show you her report if you like.” I could all but hear the sneer in her voice.
“Horseapples!” snarled Thunderbolt, bringing his hoof down hard on her desk. “Fell Flight would never desert just from seeing the enemy! I know you have problems with her, just like Squall Line! So where is she?!” I watched through the door window as he grabbed the commander’s uniform lapels and shook her hard.
I realized I would never have a better opportunity to make an entrance, so I threw open the door right then. “I’m right here, Lieutenant!” I announced proudly. “Private Fell Flight reporting, ma’am!” I saluted Downdraft for what I intended to be the final time, smirking as I saw her pressed up against a wall by Thunderbolt.
The base commander, Sirocco, and Thunderbolt turned to regard me with shock, surprise, and relief, respectively. The first recovered quickly, turning stern and shoving Thunderbolt away. “And where the buck have you been, private? Being AWOL is a severe offense!”
“Ma’am, I’ve been deep in gryphon territory, rescuing civilian hostages!” I told her in perfect earnestness, struggling to keep the smile off my face.
“What a load of horse manure,” she sneered. “Then where are they, private? Where are these mythical prisoners you liberated?”
On cue, the three earth pony families walked through the door, filthy, hungry… and very happy to be home. “She saved us, commander!” the stallion spoke for all of them. “She isn’t lying! She saved us all! Even slew a dozen gryphons to do it!” he said to the tearful thanks and nods of the others.
“She’s amazing! She’s the best pony ever!” the earth pony foal I’d rescued cried, clutching my leg as Downdraft’s utterly stunned expression gave me no small amount of glee.
I waited until the families had finished giving me accolades and at least the foals had left before carrying out the coup de grâce. “I ask that these fine ponies receive immediate medical attention. Oh, and ma’am…” With a triumphant glance at Thunderbolt, I threw a sealed bag on her desk where it landed with a heavy thump; I’d carried it with me the whole way home, saving it for just this moment. “I wish to further report that Master Indala’s raider group will no longer be a problem.”
“And why is that…?” Downdraft asked suspiciously as she opened the bag carefully… and promptly retched as the foul stench of decay hit her full in the face.
Sirocco and Thunderbolt wrinkled their noses, too, but were far less squeamish as the latter reached into the bag and pulled out… Master Indala’s head, easily recognizable by his black war paint and multiple beak piercings, his swollen tongue hanging out his open beak. “Well done, Private!” Sirocco said with a smile, studying the head closely, seemingly admiring my work. “Indala ran one of the worst raider groups there was. Methinks this will do wonders for frontier peace… and your reputation.”
Sealing the bag, a still-gagging Commander Downdraft tried to bluster. “The hay it will! She abandoned her post and—”
“I was abandoned first,” I remarked dryly before my face contorted into a snarl. “By Flight Sergeant Stuka, at your orders!” I accused, taking a menacing step towards her, my size and feral appearance making her take an involuntary one back. “She knocked me out and stripped me of my weapons and uniform and abandoned me on the gryphon side of the canyon, leaving me for dead!” I announced, fire in my eyes. “For trying to have me killed, we are going to duel, commander! Right here! Right now! And the terms of victory… will be death!” I brandished my gryphon blade and slammed my hoof down on her desk, causing her to flinch back, her eyes wide.
“Calm yourself, Fell Flight,” Thunderbolt said, defusing the threatened fight by stepping between the Master Sergeant and I, his voice even, though there was great anger in his eyes. “Rest assured, justice will be served, but it serves nopony to engage in a duel to the death. Take it from me—for a pony such as her, public disgrace and dishonorable discharge will hurt far worse.”
“Aye,” Sirocco agreed, her eyes hooded. “And to that end…” She promptly stalked over to the other mare and ripped off her rank insignia. “Corporal Downdraft, on my authority as 5th Division operations officer, you are hereby demoted and relieved of command of Outpost Omega. You will accompany me back to Gamma, where you will face court-martial, pending an official inquiry into your actions.” She then turned to me and considered me for a moment before smiling. “’Tis certain I don’t normally do this, but ’tis also certain you’ve more than earned it, and I will make sure the paperwork goes through.” Ripping off the three bottom rockers from Downdraft’s taken insignia, she proceeded to affix the remaining three stripes to my shoulders, then stepped back and saluted me. “If I had my way, you wouldst have had two of these to start. Well done, Sergeant Fell Flight!”
I admit, I was struck speechless by the gesture. I had thought my unauthorized actions would result in my termination from the Corps, but instead, I had been promoted! All I could think to do in the situation was salute, as the families cheered for me.
Downdraft, however, wasn’t out of fight yet. “You can’t do this, Lieutenant! I was only acting under orders of general Squall Line!”
Sirocco’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really? Show me that order!” she directed, causing the now-former commander to sweat even more profusely.
“Well, there is no record of it, ma’am… “ she fidgeted.
“A likely story!” I accused, my ears still laid back.
“Unfortunately, it is,” Thunderbolt said in disgust. “Squall Line’s no foal. Methinks he would hardly be so obvious about it. I’m sure that whatever instructions he gave were unofficial and less order than suggestion.”
“As you say,” Downdraft smirked, feeling on safer ground again. “And methinks that as soon as he hears what happened, he’ll reinstate me promptly and throw this filth out.”
I couldn’t hold myself back, snarling and leaping over the desk to attack her; it took both Thunderbolt and Sirocco to restrain me. “Stop, Sergeant! She isn’t worth it!” the latter told me.
“You’ve already won, Fell Flight. Remember what I said about revenge and don’t sully your victory now,” Thunderbolt added, gently pulling me away as Sirocco had Downdraft placed under arrest, marching her out the door and leaving her second, SFC Gust Front, in charge.
After she left and I had accepted some final thanks from the rescued families, I suddenly felt very tired. I’d been operating on no sleep and sheer adrenaline for days, refusing to crack for the sake of the ponies I was saving. But now that I had gotten them to safety, my body was demanding rest, the emotional and physical demands of the past three days catching up to me all at once. “Fell Flight? Are you all right?” Thunderbolt noticed me starting to sway.
“S-Sir? M-Methinks I need to...” I began unsteadily as my legs suddenly buckled. My mentor barely caught me before I collapsed completely, no longer able to support my own weight. “Sleep,” I finished, perchance slightly needlessly.
Thunderbolt smiled. “Mission accomplished, soldier. Job well done. Now let’s get you to the infirmary,” he said as he placed me on his back, carrying me the entire way there; despite my sudden fatigue, I couldn’t help but smile at the title he had just bestowed on me.
Soldier. I am a soldier… I repeated the word in my head and realized I liked the sound of it, to say nothing of the genuine pride I heard in his voice. Mission accomplished… my thoughts echoed further, and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
A week later, I found myself back at Corps headquarters in Canterlot, cleaned up but back in my private’s uniform. This time, my escort was Lieutenant Sirocco, and her face reflected the anger I was just barely containing. There were several reasons for our ire; not the least of which was an official notice that had arrived from Corps HQ at Outpost Omega announcing that Downdraft was being reinstated as commander of the base, and I was stripped of my rank, effective immediately. Worse, all news of the raider attack and my subsequent rescue of civilian hostages had been suppressed; there was now no mention of them in the official reports. As far as the Corps and my service record was concerned, they had never happened.
I notified both Sirocco and Thunderbolt of the situation; Thunderbolt, however, had just started with another remedial class and was unable to assist me. But Sirocco more than made up for him as we stalked through the halls towards Squall Line’s office. Everypony we met fairly jumped out of our path not just for us, but for who was following us.
Sirocco did not even bother with courtesy when we reached his office, glaring the two guards out of the way before kicking the doors open and marching inside. “General Squall Line, what is the meaning of this?!” she snapped, brandishing the scroll that contained his orders before him.
“I don’t recall owing you or anypony else an explanation, Lieutenant,” he growled, not even looking at me. “My orders are given and final. If you two don’t like them, you can either leave my office, or leave the Corps!” he rang for his sentries, who did not respond. For he was no longer the highest authority present.
“Methinks I could say the same for you, General Squall Line,” a new mare voice broke in, calm and measured yet very commanding. Squall Line’s jaw dropped along with his knee as four large gold-armored Celestial Guardsponies entered along with Princess Celestia herself, towering over us all.
She had held an audience with me that morning following a personal appeal for intervention from both Thunderbolt and Sirocco, co-signed by the mares and stallion of the families I’d rescued. After hearing us out, her frown deepening the more she heard, she promised she would look into the matter quickly—by which she meant immediately. “And I’m afraid at this point, you owe me an explanation.”
“M-My Princess!” he stammered, hurriedly bowing. “I was not informed of your arrival!”
“Just as I was not informed of either this young mare, her obstacles or her exploits,” she replied evenly but cooly, the barest of edge in her voice. “Wouldst you please explain your actions regarding her? Because from all I have heard, she deserves praise and commendation, not demotion.”
Squall Line visibly swallowed. “My princess, please understand… I only sought to protect the Corps and Equestria itself with my actions.”
“Really. And protect them from what, exactly?” she asked, never losing her measured tone even as her annoyance began to grow. “From a mare who, from all I have heard, is one of the best young soldiers your Corps has seen in some time? A mare who endured much for the simple sake of acceptance, risking life and limb to rescue a dozen kidnapped ponies from gryphon clutches?”
“I… do not dispute her actions, My Princess,” he replied carefully, perchance recognizing he was now in very thin air. “But ’tis my considered judgment she cannot be trusted. You of all ponies know her kind betrayed us once before!”
For the first time, Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Do not invoke the legacy of my sister’s fall in your defense, General. The Nightmare is no more, and the thestrals have lived peacefully among us for centuries. I have spoken to this young mare and am satisfied she seeks nothing more than to belong.
“I do not make it a habit of overruling my generals or involving myself in day-to-day military affairs, but your actions are unacceptable in light of Ms. Fell Flight’s undeniable heroism. I have already ordered the arrest and court-martial of Master Sergeant Downdraft and Flight Sergeant Stuka for attempted murder. And though I do not believe you told them to kill her, you certainly encouraged her persecution and your career now hangs by a thread for it.”
He went pale. “If it pleases My Princess, I will reinstate and decorate Private Flight immediately,” he offered placatingly.
She studied him carefully, noting as I did that no apology was offered. “As I have yet to hear any acknowledgement of wrongdoing, I’m afraid it would please me more to accept your resignation, General Squall Line,” she pronounced sentence on him.
The General went crestfallen as both Sirocco and I smiled. “But My Princess…!”
“Had you simply admitted an egregious error in judgment and apologized to Private Flight, I would have let it pass with nothing more than formal censure. But as you have failed utterly to do so in the face of all evidence, you no longer have my confidence, general. Submit your resignation, and I would allow you to retire with full pension and rank in recognition of your many years of service and the battles you have fought,” she offered far too generously in my view, then leaned in close, staring at him through narrowed eyes.
“Fail to do so, and I will summarily dismiss you, ordering a very public inquiry into your actions… both past and present,” she added ominously.
Squall Line’s wings and shoulders slumped. “Then... as I have no wish to drag my family through such turbulent skies and cannot, in good conscience, accept the presence of Miss Flight as anything less than a severe security risk… I will do as you ask, My Princess.” He sat back hard in his chair, defeated. “But mark my words, she will turn on us. We will regret her presence in the Corps!”
“Consider them marked,” the Princess said coldly. “Now remove yourself from this office, General, before I have you thrown out.”
The Princess was nothing if not gracious and true to her word.
As an apology for all I had been through, she ordered that a very large and public awards ceremony be held for me, in Canterlot’s grand courtyard beneath the castle. It was attended by thousands of troops and nobles, including a mixed Guardspony company and pegasus battalion from the Aerial Corps’ first division, plus an Army regiment from Stalliongrad for good measure, all dressed in formal attire. They’d even pulled a naval airship out of mothballs for the occasion; the EAS Alliance was parked overhead, its unicorn and pegasus crew lining the railing and attired in their own dress whites. And presiding over the affair was the Princess herself, along with the new Corps Commander, General Fairweather. My family and the ponies I’d saved were also there as guests of honor, all beaming with happiness and pride.
The newly promoted general, Sirocco, the Princess herself and even one of the mares I’d rescued gave speeches recounting my deeds and extolling me, but ’twas not they who stepped forward when the time came. For there was but one pony I would accept an award from; the one pony who had made me what I was and been there for me every step of the way…
The one pony without whom I could never have accomplished what I did.
“Private Fell Flight!” Lieutenant Thunderbolt stood tall as he began speaking into a blue command crystal that amplified his voice throughout the field, dressed in his formal officer’s attire along with the rest. “The Aerial Corps Sapphire Sentinel is rarely given. ’Tis the highest award for heroism a Corps soldier can receive short of the Defender of Harmony medal itself. ’Tis only granted for acts of singular daring and valor, in defense of Equestrian lives.
“May it now be known that through courage and cunning, alone and armed with nothing more than your wits and the wings on your back, you crossed into Gryphon territory and pursued a superior raider force who had kidnapped three pony families for ransom or worse, single-hoofedly ambushing and defeating their captors, slaying twelve and driving off the rest!” He paused to let my feat sink in again. “And yet, ’tis not the enemy lives you took for which this honor is given, but the civilian lives you saved, both then and in the future. For in the end, you not only rescued a dozen ponies, but by besting the raider master in single combat, you ensured neither he nor his group would ever threaten innocent lives again.
“Your commitment to duty, indomitable will, courage and combat prowess in the face of impossible odds is an inspiration, and one to which all soldiers should aspire!” his magically-enhanced voice boomed as he affixed the wingblade-and-shield inscribed sapphire medal hanging from a white-and-blue ribbon to my chest, its faceted face gleaming blue in the sun—and how appropriate ’twas made from the same type of crystal as my eyes! “And for taking not just the worst of the gryphons but of your fellow ponies, fighting petty prejudice and enduring endless abuse, you have more than earned this as well…” He next removed my private’s insignia and replaced them with the three upright-V stripes of an Aerial Corps Sergeant, the silver metal gleaming bright against the backdrop of my dark blue dress uniform.
With that, he stood back and saluted me, signaling the assembled troops to do the same. “You sought acceptance above all else? You have it! We can now see your quality as clearly as your eyes can see in the dark. So step forth into the light! Stand proud and be recognized as one of Equestria’s premiere soldiers… Sergeant Fell Flight!”
The cheers and hoofstomps that followed were thunderous, as was the salute the airship fired from its ballistae overhead. I watched my mother break down and cry as I returned the salute, and seeing her happiness, I could no longer keep the tears of joy from rolling down my own cheeks.
I was a soldier. I was a hero.
For the first time in my life, I belonged.
’Twas the greatest day of my life, one I remember fondly even now in the face of so many other battles and award ceremonies to come.
I returned to Outpost Omega after a two-week leave, at my own request. ’Tis certain I could have requested to be transferred somewhere safer, and certainly my family had made known their wishes that I would ask to be. But I was a soldier, and I knew the point of greatest danger was where I belonged. Many changes happened in the wake of my battle and Squall Line’s dismissal, not the least of which was Sirocco’s promotion to First Lieutenant. She was named executive officer of the Fifth Division, and one of her first orders was to transfer then-Sky Sergeant Windshear from Alpha to Omega, giving our toughest command to one of the toughest soldiers and best senior NCOs we had. He had the base whipped into shape quickly, and raids soon all but ended for it…
Save for one major incident whose story is best saved for another time; an attack that would result in the first Defender of Harmony medal awarded in twenty years.
I could tell tales of other battles and additional commendations I would receive over the next five years, but ’tis not important except to say that I solidified my reputation as a fine soldier and warrior, never shirking from my duty or a fight. Before long I was even promoted to Flight Sergeant and within a year I was named Windshear’s training officer, later moved up to operations officer and eventually named second-in-command for his eventual replacement when he left to train new Royal Guard recruits at Fort Spur. My battle prowess did not go unnoticed among the gryphon gangs either—“beware the bat-eyed mare who sees and slays all!” at least one recovered scroll said under a crude picture of me, and I hung it over my office desk next to my Sapphire Sentinel citation.
I tried not to forget my family, returning home for holidays and other occasions when I could; I also took pains to visit Thunderbolt and Topsail regularly, noting how fortunate I was to have not one, but two superb stallions in my life. They kept me grounded, always there when I needed, reminding me of what I fought for. At one point, Thunderbolt mentioned a young filly he’d trained who had been born with a single working eye; his tale of how she’d become the best flier of her class impressed me, as did the news that she, too, had an interest in the Corps. Perchance I should have realized then I’d meet that mare myself one day, and become the best of friends with her as well as sisters-in-arms.
Unwounded in a score of separate engagements where I had racked up a lengthy list of kills and commendations, reaching the rank of Sergeant First Class in what was then-record time, perchance I did get a bit arrogant, believing myself the best we had short of Windshear himself. But all that would change one winter night when we got an emergency transfer notice to outpost Epsilon. We were ordered by Sirocco to send three squads immediately after the backwater base had suffered a sneak attack, whilst Gamma shifted an equal number of troops to Omega to cover our departure.
I can’t say I was impressed as I disembarked from a naval transport and introduced myself to the acting Epsilon commander, a wiry-looking Armored Guardspony mare bearing the three stripes of a Sergeant. I’d heard of her, of course, but thought little of it; having served under Windshear and seen him fight, the rumors that she’d bested him were simply too ridiculous to believe. ’Twas certain to me that she was little more than a token mare in the Guard, and that the only reason they would have sent her here instead of a more dangerous posting was to keep her safe.
In any event, Armored Guardspony or no, I outranked her, and thus I ordered her to cede command to me. She refused, her one-eyed aide quoting Corps protocols on me, to my great annoyance. “So I am to take orders from some guardsmare who has yet to see actual combat?!” I scoffed to murmurs of agreement from my fellow veterans. “’Tis an insult and an outrage!”
The only immediate response from the armored mare was a raised eyeridge. “Sergeant Flight, I highly suggest you mind your tongue.”
“And why, pray tell, should I?” I shot back, then proceeded to get in her face and recite my service record. “I have served in the Corps for six years. I have fought gryphons many a time, and lived to tell the tale with nary a scratch on my body,” I informed her, but she remained infuriatingly unimpressed. “I am a highly decorated Wing Warrior with command experience, and I will not take orders from some hatchling of a guardsmare who is two ranks my junior!” I warned her, giving my most intimidating cat-eyed glare.
My temper rose further as I saw the barest hint of a sly smile break her lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Sergeant Flight. Now, either you acknowledge me as your commanding officer until Lieutenant Sundiver recovers, and I forget that charming little repartee… or you continue making a foal of yourself and I put you in your richly-deserved place,” she said as if she was quoting somepony.
“Put me in my place?” Despite my blue lenses, methinks I was now seeing quite red, stepping up until we were nose-to-nose. “And what arrogance leads a waif like you to presume to place me anywhere…?!”
* * * * *
My then-future Captain has already described how effectively and easily she dealt with me. To be certain, ’twas a great shock to me, being the first time since entering the Corps that I had been bested so soundly. I learned quickly that her looks were deceiving; that despite her smaller frame, she was both as strong as any earth pony yet simultaneously the superior of any pegasus in flight. The one time I mentioned her unnatural strength, she mused that ’twas possible she had earth pony blood. But there was no way to know as being an orphan, she had never known her parents.
Upon hearing that, I found myself guiltily reflecting that I’d had the support of my parents and an entire herd growing up, yet had thought myself cursed for having a pair of cat eyes. But here was a mare who had no such support; despite this, she had found friendship and viewed life optimistically, never losing sight of what—and who—was important to her. Hearing her story, I resolved anew to keep in touch with my family and loved ones…
For ’tis true what has been said in these pages repeatedly: that knowing who and what you fight for makes all the difference to a soldier.
A double-length chapter for your enjoyment, showing the Rise of the Batmare! 
Sorry, couldn’t resist. 
Fell Flight’s badassery will be a tough act to follow, but be assured Swift Strike will give her a run when it’s his turn to have his story told. Speaking of him, I’m retconning the story to make him from Trottingham and giving him an English accent, since I kind of think of him as a British/SAS type.
In a change of chapter order, I have moved Blindside’s interlude to just after her first appearance. The two current bonus chapters might also be made appendices eventually. Be assured that major story events hinted at here, both Thunderbolt’s blackest day and Windshear’s heroic stand, will be told in due course. Perspective will shift back to Firefly after this, where it will be time to see Wind Whistler off to basic training... and meet a newly graduated Sky Sentry, who very much intends to collect on Firefly’s promise! 
And of course, gryphon preparations will be proceeding apace. Wait another five chapters or so, and the invasion of Equestria begins... and when it happens, I will even be making maps to show the battles and progress of the campaign.
Thanks to AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, TheGoldCrow and Denim_Blue for the prereads and all the google doc comments. They had a great deal of fun with the references in here, as did I.
This will be it for Rise of Firefly for a bit while I work on completing its parent story, The Lawyer and The Unicorn. But fear not... this story is not and will never be forgotten.
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Brexit!
New chapter! 
This is going to be a good day.
Wouldn't that make destiny unfalsifiable and therefore a fallacy?
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You're paying sweetie! This ain't charity ya know.
The same place he got the practice blades I don't doubt!
It's just not the same without the beak. At least you still have the wings for the chicken dance!
It's a double-edged sword. War tends to refocus priorities from frivalous crap to life and death. And really, aside from the fact that some of us on this mud ball live without fear of dying, this is the default state of the world. Kill or be killed. You can blame the sorry state of humanity in western counties due to the fact that not enough of us are dying during childbirth.
i.ytimg.com/vi/tvfhmhITkYY/maxresdefault.jpg
[cringe] On the other hand, it does mess up your head since we're a social species and killing others like you is fratricide to a degree and reduces your chance to survive if taken to extremes. I linked to this quote somewhere in the Fallout Equestria comments section. I think it was the "Earth Pony Way" chapter. Anyway, this fellow said it well...
War brings us together even as it tears us apart inside.
I can't help but smile at the Ace Attorney Operation Turnabout reference.
My god, he went Arbu on their ass!
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For the record, Firesight has not read FoE. He just keeps accidentally handing me these references, I swear!
I'm going to headcanon that they didn't do anything but sleep. I just can't imagine being in the mood to get it on after all that. I also don't think FF would be ready to go all 100 Mile Rule on Topsail.
Thanks Obama! Nah, I'm just kidding. We won't be able to make anime real until Trump is elected.
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No one's going Private Pyle on me with the bags of soap!
We call it "The Wrong Neighborhood".
And I'm going to cut the comment short here. Part 2 will feature Linky and Twinkleshine to deal with the based action sequence.
Daaaang, that is badassery right there! Taking out a raider group singlehandedly? That is definitely something to be proud of! And Squall Line gets caught with his hoof in the cookie jar, that was really stupid of him to actually send orders to make Fell miserable....
7333885 Well, to be fair, the only orders that were written down were the ones that reinstated Downdraft and stripped Fell Flight of her rank. Mind you, that was still an unwise move on his part, especially since they were able to take it straight to the top.
It's supposed to be not, right?
Did somepony say action sequence?
Did somepony say Fell Flight action sequence? This calls for some appropriate music!
Like Tartarus that's appropriate! I cannae make war to 90's R&B!
But it's from Batmare and Robin!
Yeh're gonnae banepost too aren't yeh?
It will be extremely painful... for you!
i1.ytimg.com/vi/S-PPWANmh2E/hqdefault.jpg
Yah, yah. Have yehr fun, big guy...
Oh come on, lass! Aren't yeh gonnae tell me about what yeh did to the griffies? Did yeh kill any of 'em at all? Hurt 'em? Slightly inconvenience them? Inquiring minds want tae know!
That feeling when you go to strafe the guys on the ground and they do damage to you while taking none themselves.
Said every pegasus who ever tried t' mess with me!
That song is terrible. Terrible!
Aye. The Soviets had all the good songs in that war. Ahm still amazed they had enough time to sing and fight back the Nazis.
(gulp) You think they hang our bodies up on meathooks like the Fallout Equestria raiders?
Only the ones stricken with infection. Fear not, they will be dead soon.
My flanks alone are worth 20... maybe 30 bits by themselves!
Twinkle, yeh can put a price on yehr flank but not yehr horn!
You're so sweet, Linky. I like my horn too!
Am... I reading the right story?
Yeah... it's uncanny, isn't it? This is Fallout Equestria Magnitude 8 at least. I'm just waiting for Littlepip to show up and drop the Railcar of Death on one of 'em!
Bless yeh, Littlepip. That was pure dead brilliant!
Make them eat horseapples, Bat Mare!
Perfect camouflage is difficult to achieve, but against an undisciplined and cowardly sort even basic camo will get the job done.
Whoa! Firesight took my job!
You baw-heided bisom, yeh read her book!
A Cherokee, mother bucker!
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Oh, you're a right scunner! At least she telegraphed her punch from the other side of Caleponia. Bad form, mate.
Don't listen to her, Indala. You have the world's best plan that has ever been conceived! It will totally work, honest!
A fool of a griffie was he, but at least he kept his blade sharp.
You're welcome, plothead!
Welp, looks like Celly did have to get involved at some point after all.
Well done though, Fell Flight. Very well done.
7333885
Badassery indeed! And she's quite proud by the end. Luna knows she has every reason to be, for what she accomplished...
Well, he actually didn't, just suggested that he didn't want her in the Corps and implied he'd look the other way if they tried to force her to quit. Celly was right in that he did NOT intend for them to try and kill her, but once they did, he had to cover for them to cover for himself lest it all be revealed.
7333897
I imagine he was hoping that given enough pressure she'd just quit of her own accord, and he'd then be able to claim she just couldn't cut it. When that didn't work, Downdraft and Stuka basically took it up several notches more than he meant. In fairness, if he'd been asked if he wanted her dead, he'd've said no. He just wanted her out, and in his mind, his reasons were good. You note he stuck to his guns even at the end. He will be heard from again.
7334133
Nope, I meant no. That may be slightly incorrect, but it still sounds more like natural speech, which is what I go for when writing in first person.
7335005
She doesn't usually, but it was certainly merited here! My headcanon is that she doesn't usually intervene in daily life in or the conduct of the Equestrian government, military or civilian, unless she has to. The circumstances have to be fairly extraordinary. This was--a heroic hostage rescue by an ostracized soldier results in her demotion and the complete suppression of her feat from her service record? Never mind him clearing two clearly guilty soldiers of attempted murder. Celly is slow to rile, but once she is, watch out.
Indeed. And just think of how much more badass Windshear's deed must have been that he got the Defender of Harmony award that even Fell Flight's feat fell short of!
7333878
Well yes, but that doesn't seem to stop the global warming crowd from using the same kind of circular logic.
You're paying sweetie! This ain't charity ya know.
Actually, Iris Aid is going to be starting a new business in cosmetic eye surgery after this, offering every color of the rainbow! Only 1000 bits for one eye, 1500 for both...
Something tells me gryphons would be less than impressed if they saw the San Diego Chicken mascot doing it at a Padres game...
Well, unfortunately, there's something to the fact that we've been living in a cocoon with a little too much decadence, and have completely lost sight of the fact that our freedoms and standard and living are categorically not the norm in the world, either present or past. That in turn leads to complacency and the weird conclusion that if we live well, then it's only because we're evil and exploit other peoples. That we made our own nations prosperous is utter anathema to those who think that way, and they do their best to convince us that we're evil for it. Thankfully, enough people still take pride in their heritage and nation's history if they vote for things like Brexit.
That is all too true. We get fat and happy and forget the sacrifice and belief in ourselves that got us there. You forget your heritage, you forget yourself. That's true for both individuals and societies.
The problem is now, we're waging war on ourselves. On our own history and heritage in the name of social justice and political correctness. Two Orwellian concepts that are anything but.
I hope TheGoldCrow did too!
And you keep handing me Xeno references, so we're even.
They didn't. That doesn't preclude something happening later, though, in the midst of war...
And actually, I'd never heard of the 100-mile rule before that... 
Our god-emperor is so great, he will make all our favorite manga characters come to life! Hopefully he'll see fit to do the same with ponies as well...
Hah! I remember that scene... but it's okay. That character was fat, useless and unable to learn, so he'd make a perfect SJW today.
It's basically Precinct 13. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074156/?ref_=tt_rec_tt
Here we have a 'civilized' pony stalking their prey in the wilds of the no-ponies land, and there she goes, and hes down, didn't stand a chance as she takes advantage of his older age and love of intoxicating spirits, and now hes one with them as his body prepares to feed the crows.
7334356
Huh? Isn't that song from The Crow?
To be honest, as much as I had issues with Batman vs Superman, Ben Affleck's Batman was definitely superior in most respects to Christian Bale's. And The Dark Knight Rises with Bane tried a little too hard to one-up The Dark Knight with the Joker.
Be patient, ladies... for now, though, she just gave them a love tap. These gryphies were basically just fourteen-year olds who thought packing heat and having their pants hanging halfway down their thighs made them badass. They're currently mopping floors in an EIS interrogation facility while having their malehoods insulted by Agent Artemis.
Now, now, Linky... surely you let some mess with you...? Or is pegging pegasi with snowballs and water balloons fired from slingshots how you let them know you like them?
Just be glad I didn't name her Rudel.
Or hell, maybe I'll yet come up with an analog character for him, the greatest war pilot of all time...
Too bad Sabaton wasn't around back then!
Hate to disappoint you ladies, but they don't generally use meathooks only because the gryphons prefer their meat quite fresh...
The raiders would sell them like chickens in Hong Kong to be taken back home and slaughtered just before eating... 
Do we get a discount if we buy both at once?
Just wait until someone tries to convince the gryphies that unicorn horns are aphrodisiacs... or some disembodied dark wizards decides he needs to drink your blood to stay alive! It is silver, isn't it?
Am I actually getting close to FoE territory here without even having read the story? I'm not sure I like that thought...
Well, she did grow a pair of balls and drop them on their collective faces...
So says the Bat
manmare!Couldn't resist. Sorry, ladies. I knew full well what I was referencing here.
Oh, so that's the real reason the Indian in those commercials cried... I would too if I saw Cher trying to dress up like that!
Of course it will! I mean, there's no way in Tartarus any pony or gryphon tried that on her before...
Certainly sharper than his wits! Then again, you don't exactly need a high IQ to be a gryphon raider. There's a reason they're not regular military.
Eh, I'll cut him a break. He was confused and traumatized like the rest, and they probably told him his apples were considered a delicacy.
Somehow, I don't think Bane or the League of Assassins would do too well here...
7335240
I can just hear the Steve Irwin commentary on this scene now...
now fifty miles instead of the gryphon border
Now fifty miles inside of ?
Very nice.
7335588
Fixed, and thanks.
One more comment for the falling action sequence at the end. I was about out of steam, from that long-ass L&T segment. I gotta say, writing as Roseluck and Lily is a lot easier than L&T.
She better get a Rare-quality weapon for that quest!
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And Obama is getting four more years as president, and will be electing an entirely new Supreme Court to save him the hassle of having to make executive orders. For Crap's sake, that General is an asshole!
Four stars on your collar means nothing when the other guy commands the friggin' sun!
I can tell, jerkface! The room doesn't smell like fresh paint. Every time I go anywhere around this country, I'm stuck inside a foul-smelling, if someone pleasant looking, room and smelling the stuff on me for the rest of the day. I said to hell with it and started just dropping in on ponies. But I digress. You have a meeting with the curb today, General; open wide and take a bite!
That's one hell of a long time to hold a grudge against the thestrals.
Oosh! Worst possible answer he could have given outside of insisting Fell Flight was still a danger. Celestia's reaction gives good advice for people caught doing wrong: own up to it, and swear you won't do it again. Trying to bargain with the sovereign charged with raising the sun is an epic failure of reason and good sense.
She needs her own sign that says, "Griffies can't stop here; this is bat country."
7336536
Well, I definitely appreciate all the time and effort you put into them! I know it's not easy, but they really are a highlight of my chapter releases regardless of the story, and regardless of whether it's L&T or R&L.
Like the Sword of a Thousand Truths? Well, Leroy Jenkins she's definitely not...
Oh, Obama suppresses stuff too. Like trying to edit out any mention of Islam or ISIS allegiance from the Florida nightclub's shooter from transcripts. Just like Squall Line, he treats his fellow citizens as enemies far more than our real ones. One of my many reasons I detest the man.
Indeed! Come to think of it, I really should make a new bonus chapter explaining Equestrian service ranks... they don't work the same as ours do. For example, officers aren't pasty-faced teens fresh from ROTC or military academy colleges, they're selected from the enlisted ranks to undergo additional schooling and training. Firefly will get that offer herself in due course.
I imagine one of the biggest reasons that Celestia drops in uninvited sometimes is that she gets very tired of all the pomp and circumstance she has to endure every time they know she's coming. And worse, she doesn't have a modern human world to take refuge in yet...
Well, it helps/hurts that they remain very isolated from the bulk of Equestria, so all anybody really knows or remembers about them is that they once sided with the Nightmare. You can only get past that by being among them, but their societies remain hidden away for now.
Celly gave him every chance to own up or acknowledge error, and he failed to do so. Sadly, though, this will not be the last we hear of him...
Just wait until they enter REAL bat country and encounter a thestral force for the first time...
7335193 Okay, I understand. I'm just used to seeing "not".
This was a great arc to introduce us to Fell Flight's backstory. I greatly enjoyed the personal details we learned as well as the bits of world building that were included.
7336470 You're welcome.
7337161 A well placed Backstory is a worthy of an Enator. (Doofensmirtz)
And, it defines Fel Flight... well enough.
So good! Much Wow.
I never know why it takes me so long to start the chapter once put out. It's always an Amazing read!
Sad to see a small Hiatus incoming, but it's not like I can force you to keep producing what I need.
Thanks for the chapter!
7403626
Let's just say the question has been considered and there's a clue in this chapter as to the answer.
7403887
Good to hear! Look forward to seeing what you think of the chapters to come.
Hallelujah! Now THIS is a ruler! We see too little of PRINCESS Celestia in the show! Good work showing a ruler worthy of that pretty metal on her head.
9208468
Thanks! That’s my biggest complaint about the show Celestia. Too often she seems all but useless when it comes to dealing with things herself. Not this version, needless to say.
Fell Flight's side story could easily be a one-shot worthy of the highest praise. I'd been so used to the comedic air of TLaTU, that I'd forgotten the skill that you're capable of in serious stories.
I always have a soft spot for characters with disabilities/underdog stories, but try not to let it color my opinion without merit. Blindside had a great backstory, as well as the orphaned Firefly of course. The characters in this story are deliciously flawed, and come out better for it.
Even tempering my expectations, Fell Flight may have one if the best rollercoaster arcs I've read so far though, and I can't wait to see what the rest of the Bolt Knights have in their past.
If not for the story as a whole, but just this side plot itself, this definitely goes on the Favorite shelf. Onward!
9397656
Appreciate it! I actually tried to submit these chapters to a thestral story contest, but they declined, saying it had to be all-new writing and not part of a greater story. Pity.
The biggest thing I wanted in this story and verse is that the characters are not Mary Sues/Gary Stus. They learn, they grow, they sometimes falter and suffer defeats. But they deal with it, picking themselves up and moving on. Firefly is born with the tools and desire to be a great warrior, but she still has to earn it and deal with many setbacks along the way, some severe. It's no different for the others, either.
Of the interlude chapters, Fell Flight’s are actually my second-favorite. My first? You’ll hit it next... and I believe you'll see why it's my favorite fairly quickly.
Appreciate the faves! And I’m greatly enjoying your comments, too.
Squall Line really had it coming if Celestia herself sees fit to investigate your actions you've messed up big time and his use of the Nightmare made things only worse.
9427042
Though misguided, in his mind, he was defending Equestria. As Celestia said, that was the only reason she let him off easy. She also knows a few things about him that haven’t been revealed yet, but will in the next interlude.
9398108
@chillean, I too enjoy underdog stories, being somewhat an underdog myself and having multiple family members with disabilities, granted they don't quite match up with those portrayed here, but the fact that at times I feel for them and then others I am all but disgusted at their actions or words speaks volumes at the authors ability to craft very real three dimensional characters. I for one would very likely be one of the basic training washouts, I might have taken part in a JROTC course in high school, but I am more like Firefly's friend a bookish and creative type, and almost certainly wouldn't have had it in me to do what half of the characters have done in this story (given my current circumstances). I genuinely salute the good leaders I have met and sneer at those that are too attached at their rank or caught up in the politics and inter-service rivalries.
9446219
Thank you!
I find that very high flattery.
Nor would I, and I speak as someone who went through five years of actual ROTC--Naval ROTC in college. Me being there was a mistake as it really wasn’t for me; to make a long story short I got disenrolled two weeks before commissioning due to low grades. I was never more relieved when it happened, either--I just didn’t belong in it; I’d’ve been miserable if I stayed. But at least it gave me an appreciation for those who truly did belong and my interest in things military remained.
There’s way too much of that in the Equestrian military right now, though as you’ll see later on the next book, the gryphons aren’t immune to it either. But they’re far less prone to it than the Equestrians and for it, are much better to begin with at combined-arms warfare.
Insert comma
Close quotations. There's two separate ponies speaking.
Is the term 'fairly' really needed? Perhaps you mean quickly. Doesn't really make much sense to me otherwise.
Insert comma
This one is a bit more debatable. I believe "I don not make a habit" reads more easily. Feel free to disagree.
Insert 'to"
Insert comma, unless this is deliberate and you don't use the oxford comma, in which disregard this along with the previous comment on comma placement.
Awesome line. Might shamelessly steal at some point
Insert comma
9468552
All corrections before the following made:
It’s situational for me, but I generally do not use the Oxford comma.
Feel free!
Done.
Video link for "Vendetta" is broken.
It's hard to find not MK11 vid nowadays
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Next on Death Battles: Rambo vs Thunderbolt!
And yeah, I get MK11 videos in my YouTube feed constantly.
Very amazing chapter, epic even. That said or rather writen... Celestia is to soft towards the shitheads.
Than again before shiting the bed i guess they did extreamly well before hoove...
This soundtrack fits multible times in this chapter. Most delightful ♤♡
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Luna would 100% agree. But Celly is not Luna. They actually discuss this over in The Lawyer and The Unicorn at one point.
They did, but unfortunately for the ponies, Gaius is the kind of the commander who can learn from his mistakes, making him doubly dangerous. The same holds for the gryphons in general.
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There are very few places where Ace Attorney is not appropriate!
It's all so sweet and wholesome ;-;
I had no idea how much of a badass Fell Flight was, damn! Then Celestia herself coming it it was just wibxiwxbwidbehf <3