• Published 4th Aug 2015
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Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly - Firesight



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

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Part 19 - The Calm...

After the two difficult chapters of Thunderbolt’s interlude, one that methinks caused much consternation amongst all of us, ’tis our preference to return to lighter fare for a bit, and detail some happier times in the prelude to war.

Life, I have found, ’tis all about balance, between the good times and bad. The latter is what helps you enjoy and appreciate the former all the more, and ’twas memories of happy times like these I shall now describe, full of respect and reward, that would sustain us during the hard days ahead. War was but weeks away as we neared July, yet there was nary a warning sign of it to be seen…

Which in hindsight, ’twas only to show how well the Empire was concealing their plans and preparations, and how badly we would be caught by surprise when the time came. ’Tis certain you hid your efforts well, Ambassador, to our great cost.


Indeed, Captain. Though ’tis also certain that in the end, we were not able to conceal it. The unlikeliest of spies would give us away, as well you know, and force us to spring our trap nearly two months too soon. —Layan Kaval

’Twas the summer solstice by the time I had returned to the Empire and found myself standing before the Empress again, bowing low as I presented her with a signed offer of alliance and a special summoning gem that would call our new allies to our aid.

Though less than happy with the final terms of the agreement I was forced to strike, she agreed the price was worth paying and welcomed me warmly, toasting me publicly and proclaiming that my success meant the Empire would last a thousand years.

That I was even returning alive was victory enough; that I had completed my mission and gained us the most powerful of allies was pure triumph. I was thus feted well, offered yet more improvements to my weapons and armor in the form of a curse-protected helmet and an experimental repeating crossbow of Minotaur make. Clearly our new alliance with them was bearing fruit, as they were supplying us with much improved weaponry and machinery.

With the most critical piece of the Prelate’s plan now in place, I retook my place at my master’s side and was quickly caught up by him on our other preparations. “Much has happened in your absence, my friend.” He greeted me with warmth and no small amount of relief; there were times I thought he took an almost fatherly view of me.

“We have made great progress on all fronts, and our other allies are meeting their obligations. Save the Diamond Dogs.” He rolled his eyes. “Their tunnels are behind schedule, and needless to say… the Empress does not share their optimistic appraisal of the situation.” He arched an eyeridge at me.

“Perchance I can find new ways to motivate them,” I suggested as I drew and inspected one of my blades meaningfully. “Do you wish me to visit them and make our displeasure clear?” I offered hopefully, looking forward to the chance to be the proverbial top dog and knock a few heads together after all the time I’d spent in a place where I was the inferior.

In truth, I never had much time or love for the Diamond Dogs; I’d thought them little more than greedy, filthy creatures who loved only jewels and had few qualms about raiding the surface world to get them. We’d bought them off in part with the same rare gems we’d offered our other allies, and given their allegiance tended to belong to the highest bidder, my opinion of their overall trustworthiness was low.

“’Tis no need,” he waved me off as we took flight from the tower. “’Tis already being dealt with by your Talaeus brethren. Centurion Kuja is overseeing them.”

“A good choice,” I granted, resheathing my blade at the mention of one of our best trainers. “A very harsh taskmistress such as her is certainly appropriate for the job. ’Tis certain she will crack her whip on them well. And what wouldst you have of me, my lord?” I bared my throat to him as he flew.

He gave me an odd look as we landed on the balcony of his new office. “My friend, methinks your devotion to duty does you great credit, but you are more than welcome to take some leave after your long and harrowing journey.”

“I am a soldier and a warrior, sir!” I saluted him with a loud thump of my fist to my onyx chestplate. “Idleness does not refresh my spirit, only battle does. My place is at your side. Or wherever you feel I can serve the Empire best.”

He smiled and placed an affectionate forepaw on my chest in a gesture I would not have tolerated from anyone except him. Though certainly an excellent warrior in his own right—he could not have ascended to his post unless he was—he was not my equal in combat but for his brilliant mind and bravery, he was one of the few I saw as my better, recognizing an intellect far superior to my own. “Then I am happy to have you back, Tribune, and we will certainly find an appropriate post for you as our invasion nears. Methinks I have several operations planned that could use a tactician and trainer of your talents. In the meantime, I invite you to accompany me to the south, where our mages wish to demonstrate their progress in finding ways to fight pony weather control.”

Two days later in the late afternoon, we sat on clouds overlooking a large plain. The Empress herself had joined us along with her entourage and much of the senior staff; I noted with satisfaction the former insisted on flying everywhere herself as much as possible rather than be put in an air chariot pulled by Paladin sky gryphons.

Given her advancing age and earth gryphon frame, she could not fly more than a dozen leagues under her own power, but she refused all offers of help to make it from her quarters to the viewing altitude, climbing to the cloudbase on the strength of her own wings, a phalanx of Paladins and Praetorian guards surrounding her as she got settled and awaited the show to come. She had even brought some of the Royal family along for the ride; several of her heirs were also present, including her youngest daughter, Jeyenne.

Great things were expected, and indeed, great things had been promised. For months, the Magus had been attempting to find answers to both Celestia’s power and pony weather control. For months, they had been practicing their craft, looking for magical solutions to both. And now…?

And now, in the middle of the summer and bare months before the invasion, they claimed success on at least one front.

They started off simply, showing a spell they’d developed that could trigger a cloud to release all its lightning at once, demonstrating by using it on a single small and rather innocuous cumulus, causing it to send a single bolt to the ground with a loud boom. They then used wind spells to line up two more cumulus and demonstrated a chain reaction, hitting one cloud with the same spell and causing it to spew forth several bolts, one of which hit the other cloud, causing it to do the same.

The clouds only contained so much electricity, of course, and soon ceased their strikes. But the implications were clear: one of those spells fired into a pony storm cloud would cause it to spew its contained lighting in every direction, endangering its crew and then rendering the cloud useless as a weapon until it could be recharged. And if such a spell was thrown into a cache of such clouds as the ponies were now known to be keeping underground at their Aerial Corps border bases?

The results would be spectacular. And extremely destructive to everything nearby.

That was but the first part of their demonstration. For the next, groups of mages showed how they could make or accelerate the growth of new storm clouds, as a group of a dozen of them produced a new cloud before our eyes just by hovering in a circle and combining their fire and wind spells, sending them shooting upwards in a cylindrical shape.

That sucked more air into the base of the cylinder they formed in turn, resulting in cloud rapidly growing overhead, feeding on the warm moist air the mages fed it. Within five minutes they had built at least a shower as rain started to fall from its base, but once that happened, their spells were not enough to sustain it in the face of cold downdrafts and the cloud fizzled as quickly as it had been built.

The Empress turned disappointed, but was quickly assured there was more. That day had been chosen for a reason—a humid day that could naturally produce storms—and she was pointed behind her to a thunderhead forming in the distance. “We cannot create storms such as the ponies can. So we have found that the key to countering them, My Empress, is not that we fight natural weather patterns. ’Tis that we work with them,” the head of the Magus Legion, Legate Ialta, explained as nearly fifty of her mages went to work on the burgeoning storm.

They started by strengthening it, adding vast quantities of ice to its upper reaches while another group of mages heated it from below with fire. The cloud all but ballooned and expanded into something far more menacing; intense rain and lightning soon followed. They then weakened it just as quickly by reversing the process, flipping their spellcasting so that the top of the cloud was warmed, and its base cooled. Within minutes, the storm looked far less impressive; its rain and lightning slackening and then fading out completely, leaving the air clear in its wake.

“Impressive,” the Empress granted as the mages returned. “But what of the superstorms they used against our Raptor Base?”

“We have found we cannot create such a phenomenon ourselves without far more mages than practical and proper atmospheric conditions, My Empress,” the Legate admitted. “And such conditions are rarely seen and almost impossible to reproduce. However, our finest mages and arcane theorists have examined the structure of such storms when they have appeared, and we believe we have an answer.” She unveiled a large annotated picture and inset diagram as she spoke:


“What you see is an actual picture of a naturally occurring supercell taken by memory spell from one of my own mages, My Empress; a storm seen on these very plains earlier this spring not at all dissimilar to the one that destroyed Raptor Base.

“Despite its great power, we believe it possible to destroy or at least rapidly weaken such a storm as we did earlier… by targeting this sector with cold air,” she tapped the warm air inflow arrows on the inset diagram with a talon.

“We have found, My Empress, that tornadic storms such as the ones the ponies can build have a tilted rotating updraft that feeds on warm, moist air through this surprisingly narrow inflow area. So if enough mages working in concert with wind and ice spells can sufficiently cool that air…”

“The storm loses its fuel and cannot survive,” the Empress finished for her, looking intrigued. “What thou hast learned and accomplished in such a short time is most impressive, Legate. We admit we are quite pleased with thy progress, and hope we might yet see more.”

“Be assured, My Empress, that we will continue to refine our efforts and find ever more ways we might yet turn our adversary’s own strength against them,” the Legate acknowledged with a bow, then turned towards the Prelate, a question in her gaze. He grinned and nodded in response. “With your permission, My Empress, we have one final feat of magic to demonstrate. One that was suggested by the Prelate himself.”

“Oh?” She turned towards him, a warning gleam in her eyes. ’Twas certain she hated surprises as much as the Prelate enjoyed springing them.

The Prelate bowed before her. “You wouldst forgive me for keeping this from you, My Empress, but I did not wish to get your hopes up given the difficulties involved. In addition to finding a way to counter pony weather control, I directed the Legate to seek ways to use weather offensively. Including and most especially recreating a highly destructive phenomenon inspired by Celestia herself,” he explained, causing me to blink. I knew he had asked for this, but had they now succeeded in my absence?

Her eyes narrowed. “We see thou still hast thy flair for the theatrical, Prelate. And we warn thee again it may yet be the death of thee,” she said ominously, then studied him for a moment. “But we think we know of what phenomenon thou speaketh, and we admit the possibilities intrigue us. If thou hast truly succeeded in recreating it,” she finished in a tone that said that she would believe it when she saw it.

“Then I invite you to simply watch, My Empress,” he bowed low again, not worried in the slightest. There were precious few gryphons who could strain the Empress’ patience like he could, and also precious few who could get away with it. “Proceed, Legate. I, too, wish to see the results of your experiments.”

A look of genuine pride was seen on her face. “’Twould be my greatest pleasure, my Prelate and Empress!” she saluted the former and then bowed low to the latter before diving off the cloud towards the ground in a manner I almost thought was reminiscent of an excited schoolcub.

The rest of her mages joined her as she flew to the ground and formed a circle over a grasslands well away from any farms, and suddenly great gouts of wind and fires erupted from their staves, all pointing inward, scorching the ground in front of them and setting the tall grass ablaze. Within mere seconds a funnel of fire erupted from the ground in the center of the inferno as they then pointed their staves at a slight outward angle to add rotation, feeding the growing monster before finally fleeing from its face and leaving it to do its destructive work, ripping up the grasslands and spreading flames everywhere.

The tornado of fire they created wasn’t as large or powerful as the one Celestia made, but it was still a horrific sight, seemingly setting the air itself ablaze with a narrow funnel of flame in a feat not even dragons could accomplish. “Incredible,” one of the Praetors noted even as the Nautila Primus went visibly pale; several members of the royal family looked perturbed as well, Jeyenne most of all.

“Indeed,” the Prelate said in no small amount of pride as he saw the Empress watching raptly, its glow illuminating us in the deepening dusk. “As My Empress can plainly see, ’tis a terrifying phenomenon that is in some ways self-sustaining, feeding on the heat of the fires it sets. And once we start it, it has a mind of its own and ’twould be very difficult even for pegasi to kill. For they will simply not be able to get close enough to try,” he observed, and on cue, the mages started trying to weaken it with ice spells but had little success as the heat and winds it generated were just too intense for magus magic to effectively counter, forcing them to keep their distance.

“I regret ’tis not much use as a tactical weapon. ’Tis indiscriminate and very difficult to direct, making it as much a danger to our warriors as to theirs. However, as an instrument of terror and a potential weapon of mass destruction to be used against cities and bases? Methinks My Empress will agree ’twould be an excellent addition to our magical arsenal.”


’Twas Indeed, ambassador, and for how hard it was to counter and as much carnage it oft caused in the years ahead, ’tis certain I always wondered where its inspiration came from. In hindsight, ’twas obvious, and methinks the Princess now regrets that part of her display.

Perchance she did, Captain. But methinks also that we had plenty of cause to regret it ourselves, given the eventual response your Office of Magical Research came up with! ’Twas the beginning of a pattern of escalation and retaliation that, had the war continued any longer, might have eventually consumed us all. ’Tis fortunate for all our sakes it did not! —Layan Kaval

Indeed again, old friend. But that part of the story remains far in the future. For now, let us focus on the final lead-up to war, beginning with some happier days to be had before the storm would strike. Late June and early July were a time of great honor and pride for me, when awards and intriguing new options would be showered not just on me, but on those who served under me.

For just as Blindside was offered the Lances, both myself and Fell Flight would shortly be offered opportunities for advancement we had not yet considered. Not even Gavian would escape the favor I would be shown, as it turned out, though he would at first be far more ambivalent about his own opportunity…


As much as I’d not been looking forward to attending the Summer Sun Celebration Military Ball, methinks that in the end, I was very glad I went.

I’d offered Blindside the chance to stay behind with her mother and spend a few more days with her, but she declined. ’Twas at her mother’s own request, as it turned out, in part because she had become fast friends with mine. They had a long talk, and before we departed, Sweet Leaf thanked me profusely for my comfort and all I had done for Blindside, saying she had been a single mother for long enough and would find a new stallion, one that would appreciate both her and her daughter.

My mother nodded in great satisfaction; clearly whatever she had shared with her new friend had the desired effect. And now, as both she and my father boarded our naval transport to Epsilon along with General Fairweather and her entourage, including several of her aides and sentries, I found myself looking forward greatly to their visit. The former for being able to show my command and introduce Gavian, and the latter to show off the crack troops I was turning my battalion into.

Despite our exalted company, the flight back to Epsilon was uneventful enough, though methinks I did wonder why Blindside kept shooting glances at me. ’Twas certain I got along well enough with Fairweather, at least, taking an instant liking to her for how knowledgeable and even-tempered she was; not so set on her rank that she thought socializing with subordinates was beneath her.

Her reputation was certainly quite good and not just for her combat ability; her courage was unquestioned and ’twas even said she’d surrendered herself to gryphon custody to stay a Talon counterattack in the aftermath of the very bloody and messy IS-2 incident some years earlier. Methinks I’d heard little about that operation except what I’d read in the news scrolls as an eight-year old filly; at the very least I can say the tales of victory and heroics they spun (even as they failed to mention the atrocities I would later learn about) fueled my own warrior dreams.

At the General’s request, I shared the outlines and inspiration for our new training regimens, noting idly how the presence of Armored Guardspony trainers and Black Lances were greatly helping our readiness. Mother grinned in great satisfaction, having tested me the previous day on an Army training field and found me far more formidable in close combat after two months of knife-and-stiletto training with Swift Strike. We’d fought nearly evenly and she remarked to me that I’d learned in just a few short months combat skills and blade fighting abilities that took most Lances and Plainclothes Guard members years to master.

“You are truly an instinctive fighter, my daughter,” she noted again at a VIP dinner afterwards I was invited to attend. “Perchance the most instinctive I have ever met. You absorb new skills like a sponge, mastering what you are shown quickly. If ’twas ever a warrior born, ’tis certain it is you.”

“Never a better warrior, nor a better leader, if the reports that keep crossing my desk are true,” Fairweather added, having witnessed our bouts firsthoof. “’Tis why I wish to see your command for myself, Sergeant, to find out just how you are doing it!”

“And ’twill be my honor to show you, ma’am,” I couldn’t quite keep the blush off my cheeks at the praise now being heaped upon me. Fortunately, I’d been able to get word to Epsilon via the Army messaging post to expect high-ranking guests to be arriving with me, and Fell Flight did not disappoint. She had the better part of the battalion ready to greet us as Blindside and I stepped off the naval transport to receive salutes, followed by my parents. And then the bugler sounded a particular melody that made all present snap to attention, announcing the arrival of a high-ranking officer.

“Commander, Equestrian Aerial Corps… arriving!” I called out myself as she stepped off, rigidly saluting her as my troops and parents did the same. “Welcome to Outpost Epsilon, General Fairweather!”

“Good to be here, Sergeant First Class Firefly!” she returned the salute, then waited for my troops to drop theirs before she pulled out a blue command gem and turned to address them, taking quick note, I immediately noticed, of Gavian, who was watching from off to the side. “When an Aerial Corps Outpost boasts readiness and fitness levels far in excess of any other base, methinks I will take notice. Methinks I also will wish to see for myself why, and if that why can in fact be applied elsewhere to spread throughout the Corps!”

“’Twould be our greatest pleasure to demonstrate, General!” I assured her, then introduced her to my senior staff, starting with Fell Flight, whom I noticed she greeted quite warmly.

“Good to see you again, Sergeant First Class. Staying out of trouble?” Fairweather asked with a hint of amusement that said she knew the other mare well.

“Not at all, ma’am,” my second replied with a note of mirth. “Methinks there’s no fun in that!”

“’Tis true… though methinks you are missed at Omega. Readiness levels have fallen there in the wake of your departure, though ’tis certain the same holds true for the other border bases as well.” She shook her head. I knew what she was talking about because I’d read the same reports—without raider groups threatening them, training and alertness levels among our frontier forces were starting to slacken; I’d had to fight that tendency among my own soldiers as well. “I may yet recall you there if that’s what it takes to undo it.”

“My skills are at your disposal, ma’am,” Fell Flight answered neutrally, though I knew her well enough to hear the undertone in her voice that said she’d rather stay here.

I then introduced the General to my remaining NCOs, including Flight Sergeant Osprey after that, whom I’d had no further issues with since the duel and answered all questions crisply. Finally, Fairweather arrived at Gavian, who struck his best impression of an attention pose. “So you are Gavian Ravenoff,” she noted, sizing him up, perchance surprised by his smaller stature.

“Yes, ma’am!” Gavian replied in near-perfect Equish. “I thank you for letting me stay here, ma’am!” he saluted her in the pony manner.

“’Tis the princess you should thank, but methinks you’re very welcome, young fledgling,” she replied with real warmth, returning the respectful gesture. “Your information averted a war, and ’tis certain both Equestria and the Empire owes you a great debt for the countless lives you have saved. I understand you have become quite the artist as well?”

Gavian nodded eagerly. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” He lit up.

“He is as skilled with a quill pen and brush as he has come to be with his sword, ma’am,” I spoke up for him, watching him beam at the flattery. “I will offer you my stateroom for your stay, of course, but be warned he has turned half of it into his studio!”

“Methinks I can manage,” she chuckled. “Then perchance you wouldst do me the honor of sketching my portrait before my departure, young gryphon?”

“Ma’am! Yes, ma’am!” he answered excitedly, jumping as he always did at the chance to showcase his exceptional artistic talents.

* * * * *

As we had arrived mid-afternoon, there was little point in engaging in exercises if she wanted to see our typical training regimen, which would require an entire day to go through. So the remainder of her day was given over to tours of the base and having dinner with my troops, interviewing some of my soldiers and NCOs privately to get a better impression of what my battalion actually thought of me. I had no doubt she would get an earful from at least a few disgruntled troops unhappy with me or the harsh training regimens, but far more would say they trusted me and appreciated the heights of skill and ability I’d taken them to.

I was more surprised when she pulled aside the three Celestial Guardsponies later that evening, wanting to speak to them privately as well. Whatever was said, they were tight-lipped afterwards and informed me that they were not at liberty to divulge whatever was discussed. At the very least, they assured me nothing was wrong, though I wasn’t certain what some of the smiles exchanged between them meant.

Regardless, after my own immediate duties were done, I took the opportunity to give my parents their own private base tour, and then formally introduced them to Gavian. I saw a shadow pass over my mother’s face at the sight of him, and I wondered if she was having to suppress a sudden instinct to kill him. But it only lasted a moment, and she gave me a reassuring smile, greeting him warmly as he bared his neck to her and introduced himself, saying how much he loved me and hoped he could be part of our family.

He did not yet know that when the moment was right, I was planning to offer him just that.

The four of us had dinner together in my stateroom, and both mother and father ended up being charmed by him, alternately enrapt and shocked by the story of his own upbringing, or lack of it. ’Twas certain he could be quite endearing when he wanted to be, and was quite eager to show off his artwork and his still-growing sword skill. Curious, as she knew Swift Strike had been training him—her fellow Black Lance was silently watching over Fairweather as a hidden bodyguard in the guise of Corporal Zephyr—Silent Night then asked if she could test him herself. I wasn’t so sure that was such a good idea given she’d likely slain most gryphons she’d come across in the past, but Gavian preempted me by immediately agreeing, drawing his sword and rearing up to take a ready stance.

Mother responded by drawing her hidden blade, which she initially reversed so that the dull edge was facing him, but to my consternation Gavian immediately balked—he insisted on her facing him ‘with claws out’ so it would be a real test.

I knew why he wanted it, even though I wasn’t happy about it: “If you show a sheathed weapon or a dull edge to a gryphon, you are telling him he is weak and not worth your time. But by facing him with blades bared, you honor him as a worthy opponent,” I had to inform Mother, to which she blinked but then smiled and immediately flipped her blade.

They sparred for five minutes under my watchful eye, and I saw some genuine respect in my mother’s gaze as he held his own against her. To her surprise, she found that she wasn’t even holding back that much, just as I no longer needed to.

“He fights nothing like the gryphons I’ve known,” she told me in some wonder afterwards. “Methinks his slighter stature works to his advantage. He’s far faster and doesn’t use strength so much as speed. His movements are much more fluid and coupled with his smaller size just makes him all the more elusive. Swift Strike taught him a hybrid style, and methinks it works,” she told me, to which I could only remind her to tell both Gavian and Swift Strike that, as they would take it as a great compliment.

I had one last surprise before bedtime. I had found a letter scroll waiting for me from Sergeant Major Windshear upon my return, but hadn’t opened it, deciding to save it so my parents and I could all read it together. I’d been getting one roughly every week since Wind Whistler started training, and each one had become a bit more promising until finally, Windshear announced that he now believed Wind Whistler was going to make it. With her basic training now past the critical halfway point, most washouts had already occurred; as it turned out she was one of only two surviving mares—the other, to little surprise, was the PSD mare.

“Methinks it fitting that you are the motivation for both,” Windshear noted in a tone of amusement that even made it through his writing. “Whenever they falter, we need only mention your name to get them moving again. ’Tis certain your former duel opponent will demand a rematch upon her graduation, and methinks her blade training backed by Guardspony strength and speed will make her a dangerous opponent indeed!” he warned me, going on to describe in detail how Wind Whistler had finally dealt with the two stallion recruits that had been tormenting her, not so much outfighting them as outsmarting them.

“’Twas the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Windshear admitted, explaining how she had succeeded in goading the two into a duel where they had the disadvantage by reciting their respective histories and upbringing through sheer observation, pegging their hometowns and lineage as well as their insecurities to make them upset and angry, and then put both down quickly by doing to them what she’d done to me more than once in the past—knowing exactly how they would attack and how to counter, having worked out their weaknesses and how to take advantage of them well in advance.

“She led them around by the nose and then took them both out in under ten seconds. ’Tis certain she will never be the equal of a Guardspony stallion in strength, but she’s proving she doesn’t need to be—methinks I’ve never seen a recruit read their opponents so well!” he admitted, to which my parents smiled. “She is very smart and has an outside chance of graduating a corporal at this rate. So perchance Silent Night will yet spare me?” he finished half-jokingly, to which my mother laughed and wrote out a single-line reply:

“That remains to be seen, old friend. Methinks you are not out of danger yet!”


I was awoken the next morning not by reveille, but by another trumpet call announcing the arrival of a high-ranking guest.

Confused, I pulled myself to my hooves and then pulled my armor on. The last time I’d heard that sound unexpectedly, it had been The Princess herself visiting, but this time? That seemed unlikely. And besides, given that Fairweather was already here—she had declined the use of my stateroom and instead slept with the senior NCOs—that the song would sound again with her present meant that an officer of equal rank or stature was arriving. But why would one of the other service heads be visiting?

I got my answer all too swiftly as I found Fell Flight and we flew out to the naval transport gate and immediately came to rigid attention as I beheld the three Celestial Guardsponies welcoming…. “Captain Typhoon!” we exclaimed, snapping a quick salute as we beheld the Captain of the Guard himself, arriving with two aides and a twelve-pony honor guard! “I-I was not informed of your coming, sir!” I shot my equally befuddled second a glance.

“At ease, Sergeant First Class,” he told me, returning our salute with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, one matched by the other Celestial Guardsponies, who I guessed only then had been in on his coming visit from the start. “’Twas intended as a surprise. I was invited here by General Fairweather to see how you’re applying Guardspony training to our sister service,” he informed me.

“I… see,” I said, trying to choke back the uncharacteristic surge of nervousness and self-consciousness I’d felt, one I’d last experienced just a few days earlier when father invited me to dance. “Your presence is welcome and you are more than welcome to watch, sir!”

“I may wish to do more than just watch, Sergeant,” he informed me with a coy note. “But by all means, let us proceed. Let us see if your troops are as good as the reports say…”

Reveille sounded and my soldiers, at least those on the day shift, spilled out of their bunks and immediately assembled on the drill fields.

They’d been warned to expect Fairweather, but they had not been told to expect Typhoon as well! The Captain of the Royal Guard was a legendary figure no less than Windshear; a former Corps pegasus who had cut his combat teeth not against the gryphons but in the southwestern deserts guarded by the Aerial Corps 3rd Division, where he had single-hoofedly slain a giant scorpion and driven off a harpie harem that was using it to raid a border village.

He had sustained a series of severe facial scars after being raked by harpie claws, but had declined to get it treated, and thus now had a series of impressive slash marks across the whole of his face that reminded all who saw him of his feat. Granted the Sapphire Sentinel for his actions that day, he had later herded slightly scandalously with several grateful village earth pony mares—inter-tribal herds like that were still frowned upon prewar—one of whom bore him twin sons.

He then transferred to the Royal Guard, rising steadily through its ranks via duels and continuing action with the Corps’ third division from which he had come. ’Twas said he had a very dry sense of humor and demanded all Guardsponies meet and continually adhere to rigid standards of combat training and conduct, and indeed, I had to pass occasional tests he mandated myself even out on the frontier.

And now he had come to test me and my troops personally. The latter came first as he and Fairweather observed our guardpony basic-inspired morning conditioning routines run by Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who put a little more bite in his orders for the presence of his Captain. My troops responded in their weighted armor—I’d obtained some surplus Guardspony training gear for the purpose months earlier—and immediately went through the ground and air obstacle courses of our training fields.

This involved not just running or flying them, but also a great deal of heavy lifting of objects into the air or simply shoving or pulling them along the ground. To increase the intensity of the training regimen even further, they often did so under heavy winds generated by Stormrunner flying above them, who wasn’t above creating a quick whirlwind with his wings to make their tasks even harder.

After an intense hour-long workout that ended with most of my soldiers exhausted and panting on the ground, they turned in their armor and were then more than ready for breakfast, which the mess hall obliged with many eggs and extra bales of hay to provide the protein and energy they now needed.

“Impressive,” Fairweather granted, having said very little during the display.

“Indeed,” the Captain concurred as my soldiers filed out, leaving he and Fairweather considering what they had seen. Normally I would take part in the routine myself, but I did not for his presence. “’Tis little different from pre-dawn workouts at Fort Spur, except in armor weight and duration. However, I am not convinced of its efficacy. Methinks what you are putting them through is not enough to enable them to carry or fight with Guardspony armor,” he pointed out.

“’Tis true, but ’tis not the intention to have them do so, sir,” I replied easily. “’Tis not how the Corps fights, and ’tis less about how they perform whilst wearing their armor… than how they perform when it comes off,” I explained deliberately cryptically, then invited my honored guests to take breakfast themselves. They did so, but to their credit, insisted on taking it in the mess hall along with everypony else, inviting their staffs and my parents to join us there.

After breakfast, my troops assembled again, this time for combat training without their weighted armor, now dressed only in the basic light uniforms of the Corps. “With your permission, sir and ma’am?” I asked the Captain and General to join the exercises myself this time, taking part in or running various flight and fighting drills as I usually did.

“Proceed, Sergeant,” Fairweather invited for both of them, and I did so, running several of the drills myself.

’Twas only then that the two service heads understood what the real point of the weighted armor was. After many months of training with it, once it was removed, my soldiers became far faster and stronger both on the ground and in the air. They were able to sustain performance levels far in excess of most Corps pegasi, to the point that ponies like Fell Flight could even hold their own against Guardsponies like me or Stormrunner. The stunned look on Fairweather’s face as she observed the true fruits of the training was something to behold, whilst even Typhoon looked impressed at the hybrid training regimen I’d come up with, one that played to the Corps strengths of speed and striking power.

“’Tis not just strength or speed, either. My soldiers’ stamina is greatly increased as well, enough to give the gryphons a run,” I couldn’t help but brag, though ’twas probably a bit of an exaggeration—well-conditioned sky gryphons like Gavian could fly many hundreds of miles to a fight; mine perchance only two hundred, but that was still more than double what most pegasi could do.

Speaking of Gavian, he participated in the drills himself as he usually did now, taking part in combat spars and showing how he helped my soldiers train. He did so by providing a real gryphon foil, and better yet, one that was far faster and better than the average raider.

“His fighting style is unique, but methinks he’s at least on par with Talons, or perchance even a bit better,” Fairweather remarked as she studied him carefully, having fought more than a few gryphons in her day.

“Indeed,” my mother agreed. “’Tis fortunate he is on our side, as methinks he could even rival some Knights in ability!”

Normally, our morning drill sessions ended before lunch with my soldiers ceding the space to myself and Stormrunner, saving our daily duel for last, waiting just long enough to give my troops a chance to place bets on who would win. However, all bets were off this time as Typhoon himself flew forth to face me! “With the commander’s permission?” he asked politely, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

My heart couldn’t help but skip a beat as I realized that the Captain of the Guard himself wanted to test me! “’Twould be my honor and pleasure, sir!” I told him as I faced him with my white-and-blue Corps-issue wingblades wielded, and he did the same with his silver and red Guardspony ones. Fresh bets were exchanged in low murmurs—from the sound of it, most wagers were less about who would win than how long I would last.

As much as I would like to say I would disappoint them, I did not, falling in but half a minute to my Captain’s strength and skill. Truth be told, I’d never met my superior in pegasus strength until that day when I found myself in the surprising position of being knocked right out of the sky by a single wind-reinforced wing strike that sent me tumbling hard. I recovered before hitting the ground, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t touch him as he simply turned the air itself against me, battering me with a series of massive wing-generated hurricane-force wind gusts far beyond the capability of most pegasi.

That gave me an instant understanding of where his name had come from; a point he then drove home by using his hooves and wings to create a small cloud out of the thin desert air—he knew the olden pegasus skills!—and using it to fire a lightning bolt at me.

To his surprise, I deflected it—barely—with my own power, but he took immediate advantage of my staggered state to rush in and knock me hard to the ground, striking my shoulders with the back of his blade with enough force to numb my wings and make me see stars. By the time my blurred vision cleared, I was on the ground and staring his wingblade in the face, though it was swiftly replaced by his hoof, offering me help up.

“Well done, Sergeant First Class,” he told me with a grin as he pulled me back to my hooves to the cheers of my assembled troops, who were in awe at what they just saw no less than me. “You lasted far longer than most others against me. And methinks I’ve only known of one other pony who could deflect a bolt as you did.”

“An intriguing match, sir.” I pulled myself up slightly shakily and saluted, unable to remember the last time I’d been beaten so badly. “Methinks I did not know weather could be used as a personal weapon by individual pegasi so effectively.” I told him with a rueful glance at mother, who shook her head and gave me a tut-tut look. She’d told me to work on weather wielding, but I really hadn’t to that point, concentrating instead on close-quarters knife fights with Swift Strike.

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “’Tis a difficult skill to master and requires study of the old ways, but methinks you might be one to do so. Fret not about your defeat, young warrior, for far more fell far more swiftly to me than you,” he promised, and I had no cause to doubt it after how quickly I’d been crushed. I made a mental note to start adding weather practice to my personal training as he pulled out his blue command gem, turning to address my troops.

“Soldiers of the Corps! Know that both you and your commander have greatly impressed me here today!” he told them all. “You should be very proud of what you have accomplished and become—elite warriors who methinks could easily defeat not just raiders, but any Talons or Knights sent your way. Your skill rivals that of many younger Guardsponies now, and ’tis no little feat. Methinks that should any of you wish to become Guardsponies yourselves as your Captain is, you wouldst stand an excellent chance given your conditioning and training!”

“Lest you think it cannot be done, I remind you all that I was once a Corps soldier myself, and I have taken its fighting spirit with me to the Guard, seeking to infuse our stallions with it!” he proclaimed to a fresh round of cheers. “’Tis my great hope that your commander’s efforts will lead to greater cooperation between our services, as Sergeant First Class Firefly has shown the way!”

His remarks were followed by similar ones from General Fairweather, who complimented us all and thanked us for ‘giving her much to think about,’ promising she would have a great deal more to say the next day.


Despite the success of our demonstrations, methinks I was given some cause for consternation as Fairweather and Typhoon took dinner alone that night in my stateroom, wanting to discuss what they’d witnessed privately. In the meantime, my mother gave a few knife-fighting seminars to off-duty troops who desired it (her cover being that she’d once been a PSD agent, which for all I knew was true!) besting all comers—I think some of my soldiers just wanted to see how good she was for how badly she’d beaten me a few months earlier—and then inviting me to face her again when she saw I was anxious about things.

As usual, a rousing duel did wonders for my mood, though methinks my father felt a little left out. As a naval Pegasus who could not fly, there hadn’t been much for him to do except share meals with us, though I did make sure he and mother had private quarters for their sleep.

At the very least, he did get along well enough with Fairweather and said that he’d recommend some of what he’d seen for his own service, including requesting some Guardspony stallions be seconded to the Navy ‘for purposes of whipping our Pegasus squadrons into shape’. Still, he couldn’t help but feel his entire service was superfluous at that point, unwanted and unneeded.

Events would prove the lie of that sentiment soon enough, but for now? I had something planned for Gavian that I was certain would cheer him up.

As dusk fell and evening deepened, my VIP guests emerged from my stateroom saying they had jointly reached a few decisions they would share with me and my troops the next day. I again offered them my stateroom for sleep, but both declined. “I believe I will stand watch tonight,” Captain Typhoon told me. “Methinks has been far too long since I last did.”

“And methinks I will join you, at least for a few hours, General Fairweather added. “I would also like to speak with Fell Flight.”

“I’ll save you the trouble, ma’am,” I told her, activating my red command gem to call for Fell Flight along with Swift Strike, Flight Sergeant Osprey and the Celestial Guardsponies, who had all been assembled and awaiting my summons. They in turn retrieved Gavian while I explained what was about to happen to my honored guests, inviting them to witness what I had planned. ’Twas something I’d been discussing with my parents for weeks over the mail, and they had given me its blessing now that they met Gavian personally, understanding that he was worthy of the honor I wished to bestow him.

Methinks Gavian already knew something was up from the manner he was summoned, and looked slightly perturbed at everypony he saw in my stateroom, all wearing smiles that ranged from coy to eager. “Mother?” he asked me tentatively. “Am I in trouble?”

My grin got broader, as did everyone else’s. “Not at all, Gavian. In fact, I have something for you.” With those coyly-delivered words, I retrieved a very special scroll from my desk drawer and passed it to him. “Open it and read it,” I invited him.

Though uncertain, he did so, despite reading still being a bit of a struggle for him. He sounded the words out carefully, reciting the sentences out loud with some difficulty until he reached an unfamiliar one. “A-dopt?” He raised his gaze to me. He was given a translation into Aeric by Spear Sergeant Steelheart that caused his eyes to go wide as he finally put the pieces together. “Then this is…” he couldn’t finish as his talons and beak began to tremble.

“Indeed, Gavian,” I confirmed with a broad grin. “I wish to do for you as my own parents did for me and give you that which you have never known—a family who loves you. All you need do is sign at the bottom before witnesses, and then in the eyes of all Equestria, I will become your mother. And you will be my son.”

He nearly dropped the scroll to hear my words, staring at me in shock. “Don’t you want this?” I already knew the answer, but sensed some hesitation within him.

He nodded very quickly. “Yes! Much! Very much! But… but…” He finally found his voice, looking like he was trying desperately to convince himself that this was really happening. “But… am not Pony. Am Gryphon!” he reminded me, his Equish faltering as it often did when he got upset or excited. “Why?” He had to know, or perchance ’twas the only word he could manage at the end.

I had rehearsed this answer for days since I had sent away for the paperwork, and ’twas finally time to give it. “Because for all the lives you have saved and the war you prevented, you have earned your place among us, and with me. Because over time I have come to see you as not just my charge but my son, and ’twas your duel that finally made me realize it, when I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you,” I outlined earnestly.

“Because you are a fine young tiercel, ready and eager to please. Because you have shown yourself able to learn and apply the lessons of friendship we have taught you in turn…” I trailed off meaningfully. “And because above all else, I want to, Gavian. ’Tis certain you are already part of our family here, for all the friends you have made. And this just makes it official.”

“The invitation comes from us as well, Gavian.” My father spoke up. “Our daughter has spoken glowingly of you for some time, and we now see why. She sought our counsel and permission to do this, and we now grant it gladly. We accept you as our own, and ask only that you accept us in return. So what say you, young gryphon?”

Gavian’s answer was given as tears began streaming down his cheeks. He fumbled with his art supplies for a moment before finally pulling a quill pen free, though he nearly dropped it and the ink bottle for how hard he was shaking. We showed him where to sign, and he did so in broad if slightly shaky strokes, signing his name to the document where before he could only put scratch marks. To be certain, he still couldn’t read or write that well, but he had learned quickly how to sign his name, and even starting applying an artistic flair to it in hopes it would one day be a signature for his work.

When the deed was finally done, he hugged me hard, clutching me through sobbing squawks. “Welcome to my family, Gavian,” was all I could tell him through my own tears as I hugged him back and the rest of those watching hoofstomped their own approval.

“Welcome home… my son.”

* * * * *

In the end, ’twas not just Fairweather and Typhoon who ended up staying up late. Gavian asked if he could sketch and paint his new family, wanting to pay us back the only way he could. We immediately agreed, and posed for him for the better part of an hour as he drew us, capturing our likenesses in a series of simple ink lines against the fresh canvas he had put up on his easel.

To little surprise, he was not satisfied with his effort—he rarely was—no matter how much we rightly praised it. But I cheered him up by telling him to wait to paint it until he could add in my sister to the scene. I also told him to add himself, so we would have a proper picture of our entire family.

He very quickly agreed, and we all went to bed shortly thereafter.


Reveille sounded yet again the following morning, and though I only had a partial night’s sleep, I pulled myself up and out to the drill fields again, where the bulk of my battalion was now assembled so Typhoon and Fairweather could see them off.

This time, the latter went first, as the General took great pains to praise me and all she had seen. “Methinks I have been impressed, to say the least. Enough that Captain Typhoon and I intend to start applying this Guardspony-inspired training regimen Corps-wide, and reward the one who brought it to fruition. Sergeant First Class Firefly! Front and center!” she ordered, calling to me directly.

I obeyed instantly, coming forward at a trot and saluting as I stopped in front of her. “Reporting, ma’am!”

She considered me for a moment. “Sergeant, what you have accomplished here in less than a year is truly remarkable! You have taken Epsilon from a backwater base to our best border outpost, having defeated no less than three major raids along the way. You saved your command not once but twice, to say nothing of preventing outright war by saving the life of your adopted son. So I think it only fitting that he be the one to present you with this award! Gavian?” she called to him, and he immediately stepped forward, a gleaming green medal already held in his talons.

“Sergeant First Class Firefly! For sustained and outstanding service to Equestria itself as well as the Equestrian Aerial Corps, you are awarded the Aerial Corps Emerald of Acclaim, given for superb performance in both peace and war over an extended period!” She waited for Gavian to finish pinning the medal to my armored chest. “Normally, it takes a year of service for this award to be given, but there is a good reason it shall be granted now. Captain Typhoon?” she called, stepping backwards as the latter stepped forward, passing him her command crystal.

“Thank you, General Fairweather. In truth, there is little I can add that has not already been said—this visit has opened my eyes to the possibilities of Corps/Guard cooperation! I fully intend to help the General apply the model used here throughout the service, assigning Guardsponies to all Corps battalions to facilitate the same training underway here. But in truth, ’twas not the reason I came here—at least, not the only one,” he gave me a grin.

“My true intent was to observe you, Sergeant First Class Firefly, and see if you were truly worthy of an honor Captain Sirocco and the General herself requests for you. And now, having seen your command firsthoof, ’tis certain to me you are. Few have made such a strong impact as you have in such a short time, and ’tis certain fewer still have caught the minds and hearts of so many, both inside and outside of the military. I am impressed—neigh, very impressed—both by how you have brought Guardspony training techniques to the Corps, and how effective they turned out to be.

“And therefore, ’tis just not for your superb service, but your outstanding leadership that I now have no qualms about promoting you… to Master Sergeant of the Armored Guard!” With that, he nodded to my parents flanking me, who each set to work removing and replacing my rank insignia, leaving me wondering when he’d had a chance to arrange all this! When they were done and had finished saluting and hugging me, my five stripes had been replaced with six; a third ‘rocker’ added to the bottom to join the other two. I had now ascended to a post most ponies needed well over a decade to achieve if at all, meaning I now outranked most of the Armored Guard and Aerial Corps!

“I… thank you, sir!” I saluted him hard as my battalion erupted in cheers behind me, hoofstomping their acclaim.

“You are quite welcome, Master Sergeant! ’Tis well earned.” He returned the salute, and ’twas then he sprung his final and biggest surprise. “And that brings me to my last and most important order of business. For as you now meet the minimum rank requirement, I offer you appointment to the next Equestrian Officer Academy class in Canterlot, because ’tis now quite clear to me you wouldst make a superb commissioned officer! The Royal Guard only gets two slots per each entering class, and I hereby offer one… to you!” He removed a sealed scroll from his uniform jacket and passed it to me.

This time, my jaw dropped all the way to the ground as I accepted and scanned the document. Me? Become an officer? After less than a year? It had always been my dream to someday become Captain of the Guard, and to enter the academy was an important step along the way! Only a hundred ponies from all services were accepted annually for its two-year curriculum which involved extensive study of the many military subjects necessary to command large numbers of troops, and they typically went on to positions of great responsibility, such as base or division command.

But as quickly as my excitement grew, several thoughts brought me back down to earth. “Sir! I am honored! But wouldn’t this mean…” I looked around me at the base and battalion I had so meticulously built and shaped into my own.

Fairweather replied for him, nodding sagely. “It would indeed, Master Sergeant. But, on perchance a more melancholy note, ’tis also time to spread what you have accomplished here throughout the Corps. And to that end, we must break up Epsilon to do it. Many of your soldiers and NCOs will be reassigned in support of that effort, including your second. And speaking of whom: Sergeant First Class Fell Flight! Step Forth!” she ordered, and though surprised, my cat-eyed first officer immediately did so.

“Reporting, ma’am!” she said, saluting hard.

The General returned the gesture promptly. “Sergeant First Class! No commander is successful without the loyalty and competency of their second, and you have amply demonstrated both during your tenure here and at Omega before that.

“Your service reports are glowing and your combat skills unquestioned; you have gained the great respect of officers and enlisted alike. You deserve a reward more than simply another medal, and thus, methinks ’tis high time you command an outpost of your own! And so, by recommendation of Captain Sirocco now eagerly approved by me, you are promoted to Master Sergeant of the Corps! And as befits your new rank, you will shortly be named the next Commanding Officer... of Outpost Omega!” she informed my stunned second, whose slitted eyes went wide and jaw fell open as her new insignia was affixed by the General.

“Ma’am, I…” Methinks ’twas one of the few times my second was struck speechless. “I am honored. I-I thank you, ma’am!” she eventually stammered.

“You’re welcome, Master Sergeant. But I do expect Omega’s faltering readiness to be fixed under you, and these same training regimens applied!” she said in mock admonishment.

Fell Flight drew herself up straight. “Ma’am, you can count on me, ma’am!” She saluted again, quite crisply as the battalion hoofstomped their approval for a second time.

’Twas then that Gavian came up, looking very worried. “Mother? If you leave, then… what happens to me?” he asked almost forlornly.

“Ah yes, what about you, young gryphon?” Typhoon answered before I could, sharing a knowing glance with Fairweather. “After all, we could hardly neglect our future first Guardsmare officer’s adopted son.” He pulled out a fresh scroll and motioned Gavian forward.

“This, my young friend, is an offer of appointment to the Celestial Art Academy in Canterlot extended by Princess Celestia herself. There, you will be able to attend school, learning and practicing all the art you wish alongside great pony teachers, and truly begin your life among us. It will also enable you to stay close to your adoptive mother while she undergoes her own schooling in Canterlot. So perchance you will one day do me the honor of visiting my office there and painting my portrait?”

“I… it… ’twould be an honor, sir!” he managed through freshly teary eyes, looking every bit as dazed as I felt.

“The honor will be mine, young gryphon. And as my business here is concluded, I bid you all a fond farewell!” With that, Typhoon passed the command crystal back to Fairweather and the bugler played the high-ranking officer departure song as he boarded for his transport with his aides, followed swiftly by Fairweather on a second transport. I bid my parents goodbye on the latter as well, promising that I would visit them before entering for the academy in September. ’Twas a promise that would never be kept, for I knew not then the terrible truth:

That their appearance at Epsilon was destined to be the last time all of us would be together.


’Twas late July by the Equestrian calendar when the Prelate and I arrived back on the Equestrian continent of Equis, stepping off a supply ship disguised as common mariners.

We were not moving our troops back in by ship, knowing they would be far too easy for the Lances to spot; instead, our Diamond Dog allies had facilitated a new if slightly circuitous route through the north, enabling landings on the far northeastern Canarian coast followed by an underground passage to Cirrus Cassida. ’Twas there they drew their supplies before dispersing to various underground marshal points in mines and freshly dug tunnels, leaving very little surface trace of our slowly swelling invasion force, already over sixty thousand strong.

’Twas a slightly harrowing time for us, to be sure, as our troops were vulnerable in transit to attack or Diamond Dog treachery—a nightmare scenario was the EIS discovered our operations and then simply bribed the dogs to drop the roof on our collective heads—and I cannot say I enjoyed my time underground, which provided little opportunity for flight or sparring. But ’twas little for it except to cycle forces in and out of our large base at Eagle Aerie two legions at a time for training, never increasing numbers there and hoping any Lances watching didn’t notice ’twas never the same troops from week to week. We did the same at more minor bases set back further from the border, though we could not train as much as I would have liked given the need to not show undue military activity.

The Diamond Dog tunnels were still being dug, with nearly a dozen of them reaching slowly for the border. They would allow us to spring out of the ground almost on top of the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps border bases, enabling our forces to destroy their garrisons and storm cloud caches right at the outset in a surprise attack. Such a strike would cripple the pony defense at the outset and throw the door to Equestria wide open, but for myself, I would not be involved in such actions. Instead, I was charged with planning and training forces for no less than two major operations on the first night of the war, though the Prelate declined my plea to lead one personally.

“I need you here at my side for the start of operations, but be assured you will get into the fight, my friend,” he told me, so I assigned other Talaeus officers to lead the operations in my place; both long range raids with very specific targets. One was intended to hit Cloudsdale to destroy the pony weather factories, but the other?

The other was far more personal to Talaeus such as myself; an attempt to not only cripple the Royal Guard at the outset, but strike a severe blow to pony morale by slaying one of their heroes and avenging a stain on Red Talon honor.

I threw myself into my work, and middle summer soon turned to late as the days flew by quickly; by the end of August, over half our troops were in place and ready. They still had a while to wait—the start of the invasion was set for dusk on October 17th by the Equestrian calendar, a date that would allow us to launch an overwhelming attack with thirty Talon legions and heavy Knight support that would coincide with the rise of what the ponies called the Harvest Moon—the full moon of October, when the harvest traditionally began.

I wouldn’t say this part of the Prelate’s plan was so much brilliance as simple common sense. We knew that the Equestrian Army was weakened during the harvest season with most of their earth ponies pulled away to tend their crops, so ’twas a perfectly logical time to attack and take advantage of their lowered readiness and numbers. The Aerial Corps compensated by increasing their own presence on the border during that time, but given the surprise attack we were planning via the Diamond Dog tunnels, they would just be more soldiers lost to the ponies at the start.

’Tis worth noting that the tunnels themselves would lead close to the border, but not under it, as we fretted there was a chance the ponies could detect their activity if it happened under their hooves. If even one was found and followed back to Imperial territory, surprise would be lost and Celestia’s wrath would fall upon us. That did not, however, preclude the Diamond Dogs from stepping up their usual raids in Equestria and kidnapping a few ponies along the way.

They knew to scan their troops for crystal implants by now, but civilians were another matter. For ’twas certain there were more than a few that could get close to various high-ranking members of the Equestrian military as aides or maids.

All seemed well as the end of August neared, but then an emergency message reached the Prelate’s underground headquarters near the former Raptor Base; one that potentially changed everything and was our greatest fear made real: Copies of our invasion plans had been stolen right out of the Citadel War Room by the most unforeseen and unlikeliest of spies imaginable, and the most desperate of races was now on to stop them from getting those documents to Equestria.

In the end, ’twas a race we knew we could not lose, or with it, we potentially lost the war itself.


And thus, we arrive on the doorstep of that war, though I have one more chapter before its arrival. Methinks I can only imagine the consternation that news must have caused you, Ambassador, as it was met scarcely less well on this side when those documents reached us. I thank you once again for sharing the Imperial side of this tale, as I did not honestly know how you managed to hide the bulk of your forces for so long until you explained it here. Prelate Gaius was unquestionably brilliant in his planning, though I believe to this day his biggest fault was that he made plans too complicated and too vulnerable to exposure or disruption.

One of several faults, Captain, as in the end he proved vulnerable to that which fell many a warrior and leader over the centuries: hubris. And in the end, I fear I was no different, believing we’d planned everything so perfectly, only to be reminded of an adage even the Empress herself once quoted: no plan survives first contact with the enemy. And methinks you wouldst agree, Captain, that such it would be for both sides here.

Author's Note:

And there you go. One thing about Firefly is that she’s not a Mary Sue. She has to earn her skills and awards and she will suffer defeats, even some major ones, along the way. She does not start a complete warrior; even after graduating basic there’s still plenty of things for her to learn and levels of ability she has yet to reach... for the old saying that there is always someone better holds. Typhoon is such a pony; you don’t rise to Captain of the Guard without being a total badass yourself! As to how he has the abilities he does... let’s just say unicorns aren't the only ponies who can be elementals. But that’s a topic that will explored more later.

Regardless, hope everyone liked this chapter, a happy time to be had before the hammer falls. I will try hard to balance bad times with good, as even in the depths of the war I don’t want this to be wall-to-wall horror. I want to enjoy writing this, and that means I need it to have as much victory as defeat.

As always, I’d like to thank my loyal staff, including first officer Leo Archon, operations officer AJ_Aficionado, Adjutant SilentWoodFire and chief training officer Denim_Blue. There was lots of feedback and lots of interest in this chapter, which sparked plenty of discussion in the google doc comments. May it be the same below!

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