Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly

by Firesight

Part 21 - Rubicon

Happiness and hate. Love and loss. Rage and regret. Triumph and terror. I felt all those emotions in the space of but a single week as August turned to September… and peace turned to war.

Methinks I was amazed and appalled that everything could turn so abruptly, that everything you knew and loved could be shattered so quickly and so readily. ’Tis cliche but still true that you never know what you have until it is nearly lost, whether it is friendship or your very nation. And should you survive it, ’tis certain you will never be the same or take all you know and love for granted again.

Even when I realized what was coming, methinks I did not truly understand what it meant, or how it would change me. All I knew then was my command and my duty, and I swore to carry them both out.

Still, there were some happy times in the leadup to the war, ones that would cement our bonds and leave us all even more willing to fight and die for each other than we already were. ’Twas those bonds that would sustain us through the weeks and months to come, even when all hope seemed lost.

---

Indeed, Captain. And one thing I would wish to say up front is that you were right when you said we had done something special at Epsilon.

Even now, I can’t quite put my hoof on it, but ‘twas some combination of mixed services, good training, and simple esprit de corps that we found there, one that even affected me, making me an even better soldier and warrior for it when I thought I’d already reached my peak. Training you and Gavian made me better; for as I once told Silent Night, I had to improve in order to keep ahead of you both!

* * * * *

To you who now read this, ’twas inevitable that I would have to pick up the quill at some point. Firefly has insisted that every side of this long tale be told, including those that she cannot tell adequately on her own. And though I would go on to be a Bolt Knight alongside Firefly and the others, at the time this writing is set in, I was a Corps Sky Sergeant and member of the Black Lances.

I am Swift Strike, and of my time as a Lance, I will tell no tales, even now. ’Tis the oath we all swear and the burden we accept upon graduation from our training grounds at Coltonado; that we work in the shadows and the operations we undertake in Equestria’s defense never see the light of day. And though I bear the title of Bolt Knight, when I die, ’tis my request to be remembered as a Lance; my name and service record recorded in code on a hidden memorial, with but a single primary feather interred there to mark my passing.

Once a Black Lance, always a Black Lance… as the tale I relate will soon show.

I had accompanied my future Captain and her new son for the entirety of her leave and tour of greater Equestria. I did so in the end for two reasons: first, she did need a trusted aide, and second, in the end I didn’t trust anyone to keep Gavian safe except me. ’Tis true that he could take care of himself well enough by then, but as good as he was against single opponents, I still worried what would happen if ponies decided to gang up on him, though ’tis also true his victorious three-on-one duel with some Cloudsdale militia mitigated that worry.

Of far more concern was former Lieutenant Thunderbolt’s appearance. I knew his story well; I’d been part of Lance Team Two under then-Master Sergeant Silent Night’s command during Phoenix Fire. I’d seen him in action against the Lucavi at Rial, and later on was assigned as a Corporal to the Corps recruiting office in Cloudsdale as cover for a very grave task—monitor Thunderbolt and, if his demons ever reemerged and he became a threat to other ponies, kill him.

To that end, I knew his full story, and had a moment of very real fear when I saw him approach Gavian. ’Tis no exaggeration that I prayed I would not have to intervene, because for all my skill, I simply did not know if I could defeat him. I had seen firsthoof that he was an incredibly instinctive fighter who could kill effortlessly, and when his bloodlust was up, he was nigh-unbeatable, perchance even to one such as I.

Thankfully, it did not come to that. I was both perturbed and relieved when he looked up and recognized me with a smirk—he knew full well he was being monitored and later told me he was glad for it—then turned back to Gavian and spoke with him. The rest of the visit passed without incident, though I strongly advised against letting him test Gavian’s skill.

Speaking of Gavian, I wish it said here and now that in my view, he was the equal of lower-ranked Knights by then, meaning he had become a strong warrior in his own right, and I admit to feeling a great deal of pride I can only describe as fatherly for it. I never thought I could befriend a gryphon before him or that I would ever feel so close to one, but he showed me it was possible, and ’tis to his great credit. For training and befriending him, I was named the gryphon equivalent of godsire of his firstborn cub, which for the gryphons means the one designated to teach his eldest daughter combat when the time comes. ’Tis a great and welcome honor indeed.

But that lay far in the future. From Cloudsdale we went to Canterlot, and from there to Fort Spur. I did not accompany them into the latter but did rejoin them after they exited, and was just as stunned as they to hear that Gavian had known the Red Talon that Windshear had slain but six years earlier, recognizing him from the trophies on the wall of the Sergeant Major’s office. ’Twas a fight I was not present for, even though elements of Lance Team Two were there that day, but it left me reflecting of how intertwined everything was; how indirectly saving a young gryphon’s life would one day save us all.

From there, we went to the home of Firefly’s parents, though strangely, neither seemed home when we knocked even though Silent Night knew we were coming…

Or perchance not so strange as a black-suited figure shot out of the bushes, blade in mouth. She was on me in moments only to have her attack instantly parried by a knife hidden up my sleeve, and suddenly the space between us was filled with flashing blade gleams, punctuated by the startled shouts of Gavian and Firefly. I knew my opponent well by her technique and favored combinations alone, as she was one of the few who’d ever been able to best me, even if only infrequently. Still, the fight was exhilarating, an aerial dance of strike and counterstrike that ended as quickly as it began with blades at each other’s throats… at which point we lowered them and laughed, sheathing our weapons and returning to the ground.

“’Twould seem you improved your technique again, Swift Strike,” the black-suited figure said as she threw back her hood to reveal…

“Mother?” Firefly stood stunned, as did Gavian beside her.

“’Twould also seem you’re as sharp as ever, Commander. And methinks I had to, or ’tis certain your daughter would have already surpassed me!” I rejoined as we saluted simultaneously, and then embraced, laughing again, our sharp fight just as quickly forgotten. “’Tis good to see you again, cousin.”

“And you as well,” she rejoined, then turned to her agape daughter. “You’ll forgive my welcome, Firefly. ’Tis something of a tradition we have in the Lances as a way to ensure constant readiness.”

“By giving me a heart attack?” Firefly asked, her own hidden blade at ready along with Gavian’s drawn sword. “Mother, I was ready to jump in and kill you!”

“You wouldst have found that no easy feat, my daughter,” she chuckled, then beckoned them forth. “Now please come in. Lunch is ready. And a warm welcome to you as well, grandson,” she next nodded to Gavian, gently lowering his sword. “I have even prepared some meat for you, as we sometimes had to eat it in gryphon territory…”

---

Methinks I’d forgotten how good a cook Silent Night was.

’Twas but a hobby when she’d been an active Lance, and one she’d gotten so rarely to indulge to the point that she’d actually swiped a gryphon cookbook from an enemy officer galley whilst we’d been raiding a gryphon base. After we’d returned, she’d read through it to see if there was anything in there palatable and found a few things, including meat recipes. One thing she was surprised to see is that they used alcohol in their cooking, and as ’twas known they’d had potent ones, she made a point of purloining that the next time we visited.

Regardless, with its help, she’d learned how to properly prepare and roast meat, though ’twas not a talent she could indulge in gryphon territory—campfire smoke might give us away, after all. But here?

I’d eaten enough raw fish and the occasional game bird when nothing else was available in the near border-deserts to find the smells of cooked meat appetizing. The commander, however, found it somewhat less appealing even as Gavian eagerly dug in, finding it spiced well. His appetite overriding his initial shock, he’d complimented his new grandmother, saying he’d never eaten this well back in the Empire or on base. The former was due to the fact that most of his meals were scavenged, the latter due to the fact that our galley didn’t exactly cater to gryphon tastes. Or pony ones half the time, as Firefly now reminds me.

Once the meal was completed and we’d all had a chance to catch up a bit, Gavian was given a tour of the house and shown to his room. He seemed surprised by all the opulence of the place, and even stunned that he was offered an actual bed as opposed to the cot he’d been sleeping in back on base. When asked if it was to his liking, he bared his throat and said he felt flattered and honored by such luxury. Gryphons, we’d seen on various operations, didn’t use beds for the most part; their soldiers and even most of their civilians were content to sleep on a simple pile of straw. And in Gavian’s case, he didn’t even have that; he slept wherever he could.

In truth, ’tis certain there were times I was surprised by how well she lived, too. Being in the Lances paid no more than regular Corps soldiers of our rank, after all; ’twas deliberate to make sure the gryphons couldn’t use size of paycheck to determine who we were and send the Ravens after us—but populated by nobles as it was, being in the Navy did pay well; ’twas her husband’s salary that had paid for their large house. ’Twas a shame, I’d thought more than once, that she and Tailwind never had more than the one daughter, but being in the Lances also tended to consume your life… if not outright end it at some point. That they’d found enough time between them to properly raise that one daughter was accomplishment enough, after all, and considering what that one daughter would become and do…

’Tis a legacy they should both be proud of, to say the least.

After lunch had settled a bit, Silent Night asked to see Gavian’s art and sword skill again. Once he’d been confirmed by her to have gotten even better, both with his sword and with his pen, mother rewarded him with a treasured trophy of hers, a gryphon knife she’d taken off an Owl officer she’d bested, telling him it was the next skill for him to learn and giving him some quick lessons in it. He took to them readily, and I could see it wouldn’t be long before he could wield it as well as his sword. I had the thought then that the only skill he was truly missing was that of a crossbow, and should he gain it, he’d be the equal of any Wind Knight.

Though the Lances always try to stay humble—being boastful is bad for a covert operative, after all—methinks I will say this: of all the individuals I’ve trained over the years, from new Lances to my future Captain herself, Gavian is still my favorite and most gratifying student. In the end, I trained a gryphon to be a better fighter than most gryphons, and ’twas no small feat. I cannot take full credit for him, of course; so much of it was due to his own drive and determination, his eagerness and willingness to learn. ’Twas he and not me that ultimately came up with the hybrid style he fights with...

One he would in turn teach to others in due course.

---

Indeed, my mentor. I will never forget all you did for me, and ’tis your legacy with me that I sought to honor by one day taking students of my own, both in art and in combat. You honor and flatter me with your words, but let it be said that when I first started to learn, I did not think I could, as small and weak as I was; barely able to even swing my new sword. But you set the example. You taught me that ’twas a mistake to judge ability or potential by size alone; you were a living, breathing example of how ‘size and strength are overrated’, and I immensely admired you for it. Ultimately, methinks I just emulated you and your fighting style, as your speed and quickness forced me to develop mine to match! —Gavian

Thank you, Gavian and Swift Strike. ’Tis my hope that you both will continue to contribute in the story to come, as there are many more parts of this tale that ’twould perchance be best told by the two of you. But I will not trouble you now, as I prefer to relate the next part of the tale myself.

Together Again

We stayed in Spur for a week, spending it with my mother. The first full day we were there, I took Gavian on a tour of the town, which included showing him the old orphanage I grew up in on the outskirts, even paying it a surprise visit, a place I’d taken great pains not to return to since leaving at sixteen for the unhappy memories it brought me. But I knew by then how lucky I was to have such a place where ponies cared for and reared me when all Gavian had was the streets, so I made a point to return in full uniform and take Gavian with me. The caretakers were stunned by my appearance in shorn mane and well-pressed Guardspony uniform, so different from the wild filly they once knew, and by Gavian’s, never dreaming I’d not only return one day but bring a gryphon to their door!

The colts and fillies within were very excited by my visit. They’d heard much of me, as to no surprise the caretakers had made it a point of using me as an example of what an orphan could achieve. ’Twas a point I then drove home by showing myself off and introducing Gavian as well, telling them that being an orphan did not mean that they were worthless or unwanted; that they could still achieve great things. I further shared for them Gavian’s story to let them know how lucky they were to have a home, and to always remember that their caretakers truly did care for them.

I’m not sure my former caretakers were more stunned to hear those words coming from my mouth, or for the heartfelt hug I gave them all before leaving, telling them how grateful I was for their efforts. I apologized for how difficult I’d been at times, saying that at least in part, adopting Gavian was my way of repaying them.

Speaking of Gavian, he ended up playing with some of the younger foals. I found him engaging in a mock wrestling match and being buried by an avalanche of colts and fillies, all laughing and giggling. I knew from my own experience how rare laughter could be in this place, so I left him there to play under Swift Strike’s eye whilst I went to purchase some toys for the orphans. After being stationed on the border for a year receiving steady paycheques without many opportunities to buy things and all my food and lodging paid for by the Corps, I had plenty of bits to spend, after all! They were greatly appreciated, and methinks we left that place with warm hearts and great satisfaction.

And so the rest of our stay went. Gavian and I became a regular sight with the locals, and I showed him all the places I formerly frequented, even going to Wind Whistler’s Windchimes shop (which she’d sold to another craftsmare she worked with) to show him what she’d done before joining the guard. He found plenty of artistic inspiration there, through he also found the tinkling sound some chimes made a bit sharp and unpleasant to my surprise, grimacing at the high-pitched notes they hit. The larger, lower-pitched ones were pleasant to his ears, however.

On the last day of our stay, we had one other item planned for Gavian—a birthday party. He didn’t know his actual birthday, only that he was abandoned at the age of five, so we simply designated it August 12th and officially said he turned sixteen on that date. He was a little surprised at the fanfare that accompanied it, and as sixteen was the legal drinking age in Equestria, we took him to the Aching Drum to try various ciders and ales.

Mother even convinced Swift Strike to partake, and despite initially saying he would have but one, methinks he ended up getting more than a little drunk, making it one of the few times I ever saw him be something other than the buttoned-up soldier he was! For once, his smaller size worked against him, as it took but four pints of ale to floor him. He’d actually been rather fun after his tongue had loosened, his Trottingham accent becoming far more pronounced, and when made fun of by some other patrons for not being able to hold his drink, he openly announced he was “a bloody LANCE!” to great laughter, which he then drove home by removing one of his stilettos and scoring a bullseye on a nearby dartboard as he downed his final drink… and then fell over backwards and passed out. His feat was met initially by stunned silence… and then cheers.

As for Gavian, his only experience with alcohol previously was discovering a discarded jug of gryphon rum when he was twelve, and it made him sick so he didn’t try it again, but this…? “Methinks it’s weaker, but better,” he said, licking his beak, then asking for another round, though he had to drink from a bowl given his beak was too large for our standard mugs.

Though the Aching Drum didn’t serve meat, it did have plenty of apples and grapes, good bread and cheese, and he happily ate them all—he enjoyed our soft crusty breads much more than the stale gryphon scones he’d occasionally stolen, he told us, whilst milk and cheese were unknown in the Empire, lacking friendly bovines—but his favorite of all the food we plied him with was the large cake we presented him from the local bakery topped with sixteen candles, which we explained represented his new age.

We told him that tradition was that you had to first make a wish, then blow them out in one breath for the wish to come true. Though bemused by that, he obeyed, though he couldn’t blow that hard through his beak. Still, as always he succeeded through sheer determination, to the hoofstomps of the pub regulars, who had taken an instant liking to him, toasting him and me.

“What didst you wish for?” I asked him afterwards as I carried Swift Strike out. He would wake up with a massive hangover the next day and be profusely apologetic to Mother, who teased him, scolding him that he had failed to live up to the unofficial Black Lance motto: ‘none fight fiercer or drink harder after’.

“For the chance to one day pay back all this kindness and friendship,” he said simply. I assured him again that all he had received was a gift freely given, but one more thing I would learn about gryphons from him is that all debts were repaid, whether in kindness, money, or blood.

“If you wish to pay it back, pay it forward, Gavian,” I told him, putting a hoof on his chest. “Befriend and teach others as you have been befriended and taught, and that will be repayment enough.”

He swore he would, and indeed he already had where Flight Sergeant Osprey was concerned. Still, he couldn’t help but ask me somewhat shyly why I had initially befriended him back in January given the ‘wretched raider’ he was.

In return, I told him my own story, and my realization that he might have been me if it were not for the orphanage and friendship shown me by a young filly who would become my sister, one who initially had no reason to help me given our great differences in class and temperament. “I was a wild filly who hated authority and thought she didn’t need anypony, who enjoyed starting fights and who, ’twas certain, was unpleasant to be around. But Wind Whistler befriended me when nopony else would, and I am thus forever grateful to her,”

“But if you were all that, then… why did she help you?” he wondered aloud as we sat on a cloud overlooking the base, something I’d done often as a filly.

In truth, I didn’t entirely know myself at the time. So how else could I answer, except to say:

“Is that not what friends do?”

---

Sweet Sorrow

The week in Spur—if not the two since leaving Epsilon—had passed quickly.

Twas August 14th when we were escorted to the gates of Fort Spur by Mother. She gave the three of us a parting hug, saying she was greatly looking forward to seeing at least me again in but two short months, when Wind Whistler graduated basic. Windshear was not there to greet us this time, as ’twas mid-morning and he would be running drills, but I left him a note thanking him yet again for indulging me—and now Gavian—to the extent he had.

In the end, we’d had a good time and Gavian was very happy to explore his adoptive country, even though he’d seen but three major towns and cities of it plus plenty of countryside. His relaxed mood and happy manner was in sharp contrast to the nerves he’d initially had upon leaving Epsilon, but now that we were returning…

“Mother…?” he said as our transport took flight again from Fort Spur; I just caught a glimpse of morning drills off in the distance and my sharp eyes might have picked out a grey-dyed pegasus mare wearing training armor… or perchance ’twas just wishful thinking.

“Yes, Gavian?” I turned to him.

He waited until we had a bit more altitude until replying, showing all the lush hills and the pristine skies, the verdant forests and colorful buildings of Spur. “Methinks I like Equestria,” he told me, staring out over it all in contentment. “Methinks I want to stay here forever now.”

I smiled, as did Swift Strike and our unicorn stallion Airedale. “And methinks you may if you wish, my son,” I hugged him. “For this is now your nation as much as mine.”

* * * * *

Six hours and just short of eight hundred miles later, we arrived at Epsilon to a small honor guard. Fell Flight called for attention as we disembarked, and it was swiftly given. “Commander, Outpost Epsilon… arriving!” she gave the ritual announcement, then waited until I’d saluted both the Equestrian and Epsilon flag before dropping her own hoof, as was proper. “Welcome home, ma’am.”

“Methinks that may be the last time you get to give that call, Master Sergeant,” I noted somewhat wanly, already starting to feel a twinge of sadness at my impending departure. “Is all well?”

“All is well, ma’am. Both the border and base are quiet, though ’twould be remiss of me not to mention one minor matter that was brought to my attention…” she began almost gravely.

“Oh?” I turned and raised an eyeridge at her, remembering what had awaited me the last time I’d returned from a weeklong holiday.

“Yes indeed, ma’am,” she said most solemnly, though there was a twinkle in her slitted eyes, swiftly followed up by a smile. “The troops have been talking, and ’twould seem that there is great desire amongst them that we have a farewell-to-arms party before the battalion is broken up…”

---

’Twas the last week in August, and thus, the last week we would all be together.

’Twas a bittersweet time, to say the least. Two of the three Celestial Guardsponies would be the first to leave right after the first of September, followed by Fell Flight and Blindside on the fifth and the sixth, then the rest of the battalion would be broken up as Gavian and I headed for Canterlot mid-month to start our respective schooling. Before that, I would turn over command to a new graduate of the Equestrian Officer Academy, Second Lieutenant Snow Squall, leaving him a bare quarter of Epsilon’s original members behind to form the nucleus of his new garrison. He would arrive a week before I departed and spend that time as my second, letting him see how the base ran before fully taking the reins himself.

I didn’t think he’d have a problem, given that according to his service record he’d commanded two outposts in the past. I had trained my battalion to run a very efficient operation and was leaving enough original soldiers and staff behind that the transition should be smooth. I never dreamt, however, that such efficiency could be turned to more idle pursuits! Once I gave tacit approval—I couldn’t give formal permission given all they were planning was most definitely not within regulations—the proposed party came together swiftly.

I did my own part by quietly “suggesting” to a few ponies heading out on two-day leaves that they might perchance obtain some various ciders and other party fare. They did me one better, as it turned out, getting a few kegs, fresh vegetables and cakes delivered to our door with a regular supply run via a bribed naval transport unicorn, who agreed to bring them on the condition that she be allowed to partake, which we arranged by ‘discovering’ some damage to her transport on arrival that forced her to stay at Epsilon overnight.

I also surprised our few civilian earth pony maintenance workers by bursting in on them and their carefully hidden still one evening (which I had known about for months!) and promising I would not report them—if they shared their wares at the party.

They did, and I have to say that their grain-brewed ‘moonshine’, so named because their particularly strong form of alcohol was said to be a favorite of Princess Luna (but fell into unsurprising disfavor after her fall), was both potent and powerful.

The party was held on August 27th, under the cover of a scheduled training seminar. Proving they’d internalized the idea of personal initiative, my soldiers outdid themselves getting the base ready, setting up makeshift bars and games, even hiring an earth pony band from a nearby town.

I don’t remember the exact sequence of events any more—in truth, my memory of that night remains somewhat blurry given how much I imbibed; I quickly learned that though my combat skill exceeded hers and was no slouch at cider myself, Fell Flight’s larger size and long experience with Baltimare dockworker bars meant she could drink me under the table—but at some point, Fell Flight challenged me to a hoof-wrestling contest that I won. And the terms of my victory?

Deciding somewhat drunkenly ’twould be fun to embarrass her, I told her to go up with the band and sing. I may not remember much else, but I do recall she went up there and belted out some surprisingly powerful lyrics set to a very moving melody, and despite my drink I remember the words quite well:

Bat-Breed (sing to the tune of Half-Breed By Cher)

My father married a thestral pony.
The other ponies are afraid of me.
The Thestrals said I was a pony in name.
For the Lunar Rebellion, I am now to blame.

I don’t know if it was Harmony or just shared drunkenness, but the band quickly picked up the melody and the rest of us picked up the chorus instantly:

Bat-breed! Bullied all the way!
Bat-breed! Can’t hardly see in the day!
Bat-breed! “She’ll double cross us”, they said!
Both sides would rather have a purebreed instead

She might have stopped there but immediately launched into a second stanza:

Me and my family never could settle down
No thestrals welcome in our ‘humble’ town!
Never found friendship, only got into fights!
Got my flank kicked when I was hit with bright lights!

We sang the chorus again, then her final stanza brought down the house:

I joined the Corps, “all are equal” they said.
But daytime training put me in a hospital bed!
So I got new lenses to help myself see,
And now the Chickenhawks are afraid of me!

We finished with the chorus twice, and then gave her thunderous acclaim with a series of whooping whinneys, hoofstomps and pinwheels as she walked off slightly unsteadily, accepting a fresh mug of ale as she did so.

---

Well. After that mortifying memory—and where did I even come up with those lyrics?—I suppose ’tis time to move on to far more serious matters. What happened next, none of us could have foreseen, least of all myself. My sapphire lenses merely allow me to see in daylight. Seeing the future is an ability that remains beyond me. —Fell Flight

* * * * *

’Twas the final day of August, the last day before all of us went our separate ways. Firefly was, at the time, going over some last-minute documents in her stateroom with a recently-arrived Snow Squall, whilst I was at the watchtower with Blindside. ’Twas while we were looking over the border (a mere formality at this point, I thought) that she confessed something to me, and not just the fact the Lances had recruited her.

“Truly?” I asked with surprise. “You are enamored with our commander?”

Blindside looked away, and I swore she was blushing under her dye. “Aye. Ever since she saved my life during the second raid. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first; ’twas not until I met her mother that I realized what exactly I was feeling. ’Tis part of the reason I have decided to join the Lances; if I can stand on equal ground with her, perchance I can be worthy of her.”

I sat there for a moment, absorbing that information before giving a response. “I do not understand. What makes you think you are unworthy as it is, Sergeant?”

She looked at me in surprise. “How do you mean?”

“What is it that makes you believe you are unworthy of her attention, Blindside?” I clarified. “Is it your difference in rank? Is it your difference in ability? Such things should not preclude your affections, any more than it does mine for my earth pony coltfriend,” I said with a smile.

Her good eye went wide. “You have an earth pony coltfriend?” She went shocked.

“Aye. His name is Topsail and he is a dockworker and mariner in Baltimare. I fell for him whilst I was there to get my lenses implanted. He is a fine, strong stallion who saw past my thestral eyes and pegasus wings from the start. And better yet, he can rut as well as he wrestles.” I closed my eyes and grinned at the memories. “Methinks our differences are vast as well, but they do not preclude our relationship. If and when I desire foals, I would happily herd with him. So why should it be any different with you and her?”

“But…” a still-stunned Blindside trailed off, trying to find a response, when our attention was caught by a burst of green light over the canyon. Both of us instantly regained our military bearings; our prior conversation put on hold. “What is that, ma’am?”

“I do not know,” I admitted, reaching for one of my communication gems. “I would say a flare of some kind, yet that color isn’t one used by the Corps.” Pulling out the gem I needed, I contacted our patrol flight in that vicinity. “Flight Sergeant Osprey, did you see that flash?”

“Aye, ma’am. Moving to investigate now,” replied the flight leader. Osprey commanded a platoon, but that didn’t preclude her going out on occasional patrol as a simple flight leader any more than it did me. Doing low-level jobs was a good way, I thought, to keep one’s edge, and thus I required all NCOs including myself to do so, with Firefly’s permission. Though I would be sorry to leave, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought that soon I would be a base commander myself and need no other pony’s permission for such things.

“Contact, ma’am! I’m seeing some sort of… flying equine down in the canyon, with what looks like a couple of gryphon civilians pursuing.” Osprey, as her name implied, had incredible visual acuity, though the setting sun certainly helped. Thus, the phrase ‘some sort of flying equine’ was surprisingly vague coming from her.

Both Blindside and I glanced at each other, the same question in our gaze. “Request confirmation, Flight Sergeant; there is a pony being pursued by gryphon civilians?” I asked, frowning. What would a pony be doing in the canyon, let alone gryphon civilians?

There was a moment of silence before Osprey replied. “Negative, Master Sergeant. Methinks it’s not a pony, at least not a kind I’m familiar with. It flies, but is neither pegasus nor thestral. ’Tis equine in appearance, though, with a near-black body, green insectile wings and bright blue eyes. It also appears to be wounded and the gryphons are gaining on it.”

The description baffled me, but Blindside sucked in a breath. “A changeling!” she gasped. “I’ve read about them, but never thought I’d see one!”

I glanced at her, then turned back to the gem. I didn’t know what a ‘changeling’ was, but ’twasn’t the time to ask. “What of the gryphons?”

“They look to be normal civilians, ma’am, though I can’t see… strike that!” she said, suddenly alarmed. “They’ve drawn steel on the equine, and by their dulled finish, those look like Raven blades! Request immediate permission to engage, ma’am!”

Lighting the Fuse

That was all I needed. Ravens on our side of the border could mean nothing good, even ignoring the fact that ’twas a violation of our most recent ‘agreement’ with the gryphons. “Permission to engage granted, Flight Sergeant. Defend the creature, but be careful! Ravens are not to be taken lightly! Just hold them at bay; I’ll be there with reinforcements shortly.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” she replied, as I put the gem away.

I pulled another communication gem out, this one linked to one in Firefly’s possession. “Commander, a patrol has sighted two gryphons pursuing an odd equine creature in the canyon. Gryphons are dressed as civilians but are confirmed to have Raven weaponry. I’ve authorized engagement, and am heading out to assist.”

There was a muffled curse, presumably from Snow Squall as Firefly wasn’t one to censor herself (save perhaps in Princess Celestia’s presence). “Understood, Master Sergeant,” Firefly replied, her voice terse. “Proceed with caution. Confront but do not engage except in self-defense. Ravens are not to be trifled with. If they’ll talk, try to find out what they’re doing and take one of the ready flights with you. Snow Squall and I will join you as soon as possible.”

“Aye, ma’am!” I replied, and tucked that gem away into its designated pouch on my watch officer belt; each pouch containing a crystal linked to an identical gem in possession of either the commander or a different flight leader. “All members of Shrike bravo flight, report to the watchtower immediately!” I said into my blue broadcast gem, my voice echoing through the base as I called to the one of our two alert squads, who were sitting with gear in a ready room waiting for a call that hardly ever came. I then turned to Blindside, who had slipped on her wingblade harness whilst I was speaking into the gem. ’Tis my hope you do not have to shed blood this day, Sergeant. I recall you did not have the best of reactions last time after all was said and done.”

She looked back at me, a hard look in her one eye. “’Tis been some time since then, Master Sergeant,” she replied. “I have come to terms with what happened, and am more than ready to do my duty to Equestria.”

I nodded as we were joined by the rest of her flight. Turning to them, I said, “’Twould seem a pair of disguised Ravens have crossed the border in pursuit of some poor soul. ’Tis our job to foil them, and provide aid to their quarry if possible.”

“Ravens? They are assassins, aren’t they?” Corporal Shrike asked. He, too, had received a promotion after the bloody raid on Epsilon, after he’d come to terms with his actions on that night. He’d taken what had happened even worse than Firefly, having required several weeks in the company of his herd back home in Cloudsdale before he was ready to return to service.

“Correct, Corporal. So we dare not take them lightly,” I replied. “They are superb fighters, well-trained in armed combat and ’tis said they are on rough par with the Lances. We have the advantage of numbers, moreso since we’re assisting Flight Sergeant Osprey’s flight, but numbers only matter so much against enemies of such skill. Nevertheless, we are the Corps’ best, and we will not let these chickenhawks think they have impunity from our agreement!” That earned a cheer, and we flew out towards the direction of a fresh flare fired by Osprey.

As we dove below the lip of the canyon, we found the strange creature cornered by two sky gryphons dressed in farming vests… and in turn in a standoff with Osprey’s flight, who were surrounding them at a respectful distance, two of them in between the gryphons and the creature, who appeared to be cradling something protectively. The gryphons themselves were in a defensive crouch with their short blades but their stances were deliberately sloppy, and they were pretending not to speak our language well, answering questions in very broken Equish.

“Is thief!” one of them said, pointing at the huddled, bleeding creature. “Give… to… us!”

I frowned at the scene. Whatever was going on here, they had to be under instructions not to reveal themselves to be acting this way, and if I wanted answers, I decided that ‘twould perchance be best to just play along. “Gryphons! You are on the Equestrian side of the border! What is your business here?” I asked in Aeric from the air, hovering over the creature.

“’Tis not your concern, pegasus,” the eagless answered in Aeric; I saw a quickly suppressed flash of recognition in her eyes as she laid them on me. “We do not wish trouble, but this… creature… stole from us, and is now trying to flee with her purloined prize!”

“They’re lying…” the iridescent creature answered weakly in Aeric, looking tired and spent, its midsection carapace glittering with a greenish liquid I could only assume was its lifeblood. “My name is Plexippa, and I bear information vital for the survival of Equestria…”

“Silence!” the second gryphon, a tiercel shouted. “She is only trying to save her own hide, pegasus! She is a shapeshifting trickster, not to be trusted!”

Shapeshifter…? Needing more information, I played along. “And your grievance with her is…?”

“Quite personal. We are but humble farmers, seeking the return of our stolen gems and land titles,” the eagless said evenly.

“Really.” I made a show of looking them over. “With such fine physiques and Owl-issue blades? Methinks not!” I replied pointedly, then switched to Equish. “Surrender now, and you will not be harmed… Ravens!”

They glanced at each other and then the eagless smirked. Realizing they were found out, she dropped her facade, her combat stance sharpening as her expression went hard and fearless, answering in perfect Equish. “Methinks I could make you the same offer, bat-pony!” she addressed me, leaving me wondering what kind of dossier the Office of Owls kept on me. “We do not want trouble, and ’twas not our desire to cross the border or cross blades with you. Be assured this affair is not your concern, and we are not trying to cause any… regrettable incidents. But we have our orders to bring this deceitful creature back… dead or alive.”

“And I have mine.” I landed in front of her and went nose to nose with her, making clear I was not intimidated by her or her group’s reputation in the least. Indeed, I’d already taken out one Raven during their earlier attempt to slay Gavian, though in fairness, I’d been able to ambush her in the dark. “As you have violated the border in pursuit of this poor creature, my orders are to save your quarry and capture you… so come quietly, or forcibly,” I grinned, showing my teeth to make clear I would not mind in the least the latter choice.

“I see,” the Raven answered with an identical grin, looking around and then glancing back at her comrade, the barest of nods passing between them. “Methinks ten on two is hardly a fair fight, Master Sergeant Fell Flight, and worse, your reputation does proceed you. ’Twould seem flash gems are useless against you,” she said with a smirk.

“As Master Indala learned too late.” I smirked back.

Instead of perturbed, she looked insulted. “We are Ravens, not raiders, bat-pony. And methinks even if you are immune… your friends are not!” she announced as several smoke, thunder and flash gems detonated at once, dazzling and stunning us, leaving my ears ringing even as my eyesight was protected. But if Ravens were not normal fighters, neither were we after months of intensive Guardspony-style training. The two flights reacted instantly, scattering to dodge the blowdarts that erupted from the center of the smoke whilst I jumped back to guard the Changeling and acted to disperse the thick vapors with a strong and sudden gale generated by my wings—I’d been practicing that feat along with the commander—which also served to deflect the dart aimed at me.

My vision clear and their initial gambit having failed, I engaged the eagless blade to blade with two of Osprey’s squad and despite our numbers, despite all our training and my own considerable experience, we found ourselves hard-pressed by her speed and skill, her companion likewise bedeviling the remainder of the two flights, a whirling dervish of spinning swords and an occasional thrown blade. He held the others at bay but couldn’t land a finishing blow on any of them, the pair clearly surprised to find us able to hold our own against them and then some, a point driven home when Blindside dodged a pair of throwing stars to score a hoofstriker hit on the side of the tiercel’s head whilst I parried a knife thrust with a hoofstriker gauntlet and grazed the eagless’ flank with my wingblade, leaving a line of blood on her hip.

But holding our own only went so far as the well-trained pair started to take us more seriously and retaliated; I found myself staggered by a strike to the chest and a thrown blade finally found its mark, sending one of Osprey’s flight to the ground with a pained cry and wound to her side.

“Damn you!” I heard Osprey all but hiss. I didn’t see what happened next, engaged as I was, but there was a muffled crackle as a shock gem went off next, catching two of Shrike’s squad in its snare, leaving them twitching on the ground, which the tiercel followed up with a hard strike with a blade hilt to Shrike’s chin, stunning him—they were clearly under orders not to kill us, though their quarry was a different matter. And yet, despite the handicap, the two Ravens were still slowly but surely gaining the upper hoof and the outcome of the fight was in doubt…

Until a blur slammed into the eagless hard enough to fling her into the canyon wall. A sickening crack! and startled squawk indicated at least one major bone had been broken as she hit hard and then tumbled several more feet to the ledge. Looking up, I saw that my savior was none other than Firefly herself, having attacked with superb speed and delivered a flying punch to the eagless that knocked her twelve feet backwards, leaving her grimacing and clutching her broken ribs, struggling to rise again. “Nopony need die tonight, Ravens,” the commander said in a low tone as Swift Strike and a visibly surprised Snow Squall landed beside her. “As you are clearly trying not to kill, I offer you honor. Surrender and be spared. Resist and be slain.”

“Master Sergeant Firefly, is it?” the uninjured tiercel recognized, eyes glittering as he turned to face the Armored Guardsmare, looking like he was considering challenging her. “My compliments, commander. You have trained your troops well for most to still be standing. Though ’tis not entirely a pleasure to meet you. Methinks you and your pet Lance slew several of our comrades some moons ago,” he noted with a growl and a pointed glance at the diminutive stallion wearing Corporal insignia, to the surprise of the others.

“And methinks your comrades slew six of my soldiers. So I will be more than happy to add you to their ranks if you do not surrender immediately,” the commander replied with a lowered head, deploying her wingblades with a sharp metallic ring as Swift Strike, though lacking wingblades, drew his hidden stilettos and confirmed his identity by throwing one that impaled the canyon wall an inch from the eagless’ face.

And then he addressed the Ravens himself, speaking in Aeric. “If you will not listen to her, worthy adversaries, then listen to me. This creature is not worth dying for or causing an incident that will end badly for the Empire. You have shown great skill and discipline, and for that I promise you fair treatment in accordance with the commander’s wishes. But make no mistake—should you choose to continue this contest, you will not walk away, and the Empire will pay a heavy price for the spilling of Equestrian blood.”

The injured eagless glared at him. “Answer me this, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike…” she addressed him by name in Equish, earning him more looks of surprise. “In our place, even facing long odds, wouldst you surrender, or fight to the death to complete your mission?”

Swift Strike didn’t bat an eye even though he now stood revealed. “If I thought that surrender would mean a better outcome for my side? Then yes, Second Spear Indra Ramuh. I would.” He answered in Equish as well.

“And why would you offer us honor given how our groups have clashed in the past?” the tiercel challenged, still holding his sword at ready.

“Call it professional courtesy, Centurion Palidor Quetzali,” he closed his eyes as he replied. “We may not like you, but that does not mean we do not respect you… or would not wish the same honor be offered were our positions reversed.”

His answers seemed to give them both pause as the two gryphons looked at each other, an unspoken conversation taking place between them. They then exchanged a nod and lowered their weapons, holding up their forepaws with talons opened. “So be it,” the eagless said in pained tones as she surrendered. “We are your prisoners, commander… for however short a time it may be!” I wasn’t sure what her odd grin meant, but methinks I did not like it.

Once the pair had been manacled and escorted off, we saw to our own soldiers… and our new guest.

“Are you wounded, Master Sergeant?” Firefly asked me in some concern. Shrike and two others were, but not seriously; that alone was triumph enough against this pair.

“Just my pride, ma’am,” I rubbed my bruised chest and coughed. “But perchance we should see to their quarry…?”

“Indeed,” she replied, turning to the wounded Changeling, who was still clutching her bag like she was protecting a foal. “Methinks I have heard of your kind, young Changeling, but ’tis certain I never thought I would meet one. Have you a name?” she asked gently, her tone both compassionate and curious.

“Plexippa…” she answered, her voice growing weaker as blood loss increased; I did not know at that moment that her race fed on love and she had nearly exhausted hers in a desperate dash for the border. “And my mother, Queen Lepidoptes, offers your Princess both greeting and warning.”

“We can speak of such matters later. For now, rest, my brave young friend,” Firefly told her. “We are unfamiliar with your kind, but our healers will do for you what they can.”

“Thank you, c-commander. You are very kind. But first…” she levitated her satchel weakly. “Please. Take this…” she pushed the bag to Firefly even as she clutched a second book. “’Twas my mission to deliver these to Equestria. My kindred risked all to steal these plans and bring them to your lands.”

“Plans?” Firefly repeated with a glance at me, opening the bag to find a sheath of parchment inside. “What plans?”

“The plans… for Equestria’s destruction!” she said, almost deliriously. “And also, we pray, the key to its salvation… and to ours…” was all she managed before she passed out.

---

I thank you, Captain, for filling in a gap in my own knowledge. We never did know what happened to the Changeling’s pursuers or how their chase ended. I am gratified both that you offered the Ravens honor, and that by your second’s description they were worthy of it. I could not, however, say the same for the young Owl agent that was sent by Praetor Janus to the Prelate to report failure in his place… —Layan Kaval

A Decision Forced

“My patience grows very thin, Owlet,” the Prelate all but growled out, drumming his talons on his stone desk, the scene lit by firegems, casting his face with a reddish light and only making him all the more intimidating. “At last report, you said that your agents had finally found the shapeshifting thief and two of your finest Ravens were in pursuit. So again, I ask you: did they stop it?”

The hooded Owl agent summoned before him looked very nervous, and methinks she had good reason to be. “We… do not know, my lord. We lost contact with its pursuers as they chased it towards the pony outpost of Epsilon. At last report they had wounded it and were closing in, but… ’tis not entirely certain they succeeded in slaying it.”

Normally, the Prelate would have responded to such vacillation with a severe reprimand or worse—he hated such indirect doublespeak around admission of failure as much as I did, since it presumed him a fool who couldn’t see through such things—but even so carefully hedged, the implications were clear: after a monthlong chase, the Owls and their Raven pets had failed to catch their quarry, and ’twas now more likely than not that our invasion plans had fallen into Equestrian hooves.

The implications could be disastrous, and ’twas certain the Prelate knew that better than all of us. “It’s too soon…” he muttered, sitting back heavily. ’Twas rare Salvio Gaius could be so perturbed but here, he was almost reeling, clutching his head in his talons. “It’s too soon!”

We said nothing more, for we knew well the dilemma he faced—that we all faced. We had barely half our desired thirty Talon legions in place at that moment; the rest were in transit with the Knights and Ravens suffering a similar deficit of numbers. Only two-thirds of the invasion tunnels were completed; not all our food supplies or war stocks were laid in. Our new airship navy was still across the ocean and would take weeks to arrive on station. And the timing was off as well—we wanted to hit in mid-October so the Equestrian Army would be weakened by harvest time, but here, their border regiments would be at full strength.

It was the nightmare scenario, that our intentions were revealed too soon. The Prelate’s war plan called for a three-phase attack using as many echelons. The first would consist of an overwhelming surprise attack along the entire length of the border to shatter their frontier defenses; a massive strike of sixteen Knight-reinforced Talon legions taking out the entirety of the Aerial Corps 5th Division and the four Equestrian Army divisions backing them, the latter weakened by the loss of half their earth ponies for the harvest season.

They would overrun the first two hundred miles of Equestria at which point the second echelon would take over, using fresh tunnels dug deep into Equestria by the Diamond Dogs to establish secure supply chains that would be invulnerable (we thought) to pony attack. It would consist of ten fresh legions following up on the first echelon’s success by driving deep into the pony nation, whilst the first echelon rested and refitted, using superior gryphon mobility and tactics to crush the remaining Equestrian forces piecemeal. They would be assisted by the first echelon where needed, covering nearly a thousand miles to the very doorstep of Canterlot.

’Twas then the third and final echelon would move up, consisting of four heavy-weapon equipped legions that would surround and lay siege to Canterlot itself as well as other major military and industrial centers like Stalliongrad to crush both their spirit and their remaining ability to wage war. But less than one echelon was present and not all the tunnels were dug all the way to the border yet, particularly in the north. What we had was not enough to carry out his full plan of attack for the first night…

Which was not to say we could not do a great deal of damage with what we had. But would it be enough? “Remove yourself from my sight, Owlet,” the Prelate finally said in a voice of resignation tinged with deepest disgust. “And for such gross cowardice and incompetence as you and your master have shown this day, be grateful I will allow you to leave with your life!”

Once the Owl agent had been shown the door, I approached the Prelate, as no one else was willing to. “What are your orders, my lord?” I asked him with a bared throat and salute, knowing what I would do in his place. “We stand ready to carry them out.”

He didn’t reply right away, weighing the possibilities and risks. I did so myself, and have little doubt my thought processes paralleled his own. If our invasion plans were now in Equestrian hooves, ’twas certain they would react with shock and doubt, if not outright denial. But if the Guardsmare commander of Epsilon was in the least bit competent—and as the Owls reported she’d been recently promoted and been selected to attend their officer school, she was—she’d send the documents immediately on to Gamma, and from there they would go to Canterlot. The EIS would have hold of them by daybreak, presenting them to Celestia and the Equestrian military leadership within hours after that. Even if skeptical, they would place their frontier forces on immediate alert and bring their units to full strength, surging reinforcements to the border whilst the EIS and their Black Lance scouts tried to verify the information.

We might magically mask our preparations even more than we already had, simply lay low and hope their failure to find anything meant they would discount the documents as a Changeling trick, but what were the odds they wouldn’t find even a single sign? What were the odds that they wouldn’t finally spot the odd and unseen rotation of units happening at our above-ground bases? What were the odds they wouldn’t finally take notice of an uptick of Diamond Dog activity even within their borders? Or would it even come to that? Could the Lances not simply capture a Dog or an Owl intelligence officer and have the EIS magically extract the truth? No, the grim truth was that the EIS and Lances were anything but incompetent, and the odds that they would not find damning evidence of our designs were remote at best... especially given the stolen plans would tell them exactly what to look for. Celestia would not strike without proof, but once she had it, and probably in a mere matter of days…

Without our still-overseas allies, our life expectancies might then be measured in minutes; her terrifying power laying waste to our legions by bringing our underground bases right down on our heads, followed by the march of deadly superstorms devastating our cities and surface bases, far more than our available Magus could stop. If we did not act now, we lost not only all surprise, but potentially our very Empire. And thus, in the end, the Prelate weighed the risks and reached the only decision he could…

The only decision that would preserve any chance of victory. With that, he closed his eyes and exhaled softly before opening them again, turning them on all of us, resolution and determination in his gaze.

“We have no choice. We do not know for certain that our plans are exposed, but what is certain is we dare not risk it. If we do not act immediately with what we have, we lose all surprise and with it, potentially the war itself should Celestia strike first,” he told us, sitting behind his desk and grasping a quill pen to write out a single, fateful order.

“Execute Contingency Plan Kestrel, Option Ocelot, at first light,” he instructed us, passing the note to his personal magus to create copies of. There were nuances to that particular plan and variant, but the gist of it was an instant attack using available forces on just six hours’ notice via opening of sealed orders, followed by a rolling, three-stage operation that would consist of several discrete offensives as additional legions arrived instead of the single continuous one the Prelate had envisioned.

“It will be done, my lord,” I told him with a salute, thumping my right fist hard against my left shoulder. “And our allies…?”

He looked up at me, then went over to a magically sealed safe carved in the wall containing a very special crystal, one I’d returned with from the Far East. Once we’d left Mosclaw to return to Equestria, he’d kept it with himself at all times, saying that he and he alone would call our most important allies to our aid when our hour of need had arrived…

And that time was now, as he removed a crystal key from around his neck and placed it in its slot, releasing not just the lock but the powerful magical enchantment that guarded it. The door swung open to reveal… a single large green crystal. He removed it and regarded it for a moment, knowing that it was our key to victory… and that when it came down to it, we had no idea if our call would even be answered, offer of alliance or no.

“On this, and on them… we place our hopes and trust,” he told us as he took a final, deep breath and activated the crystal, causing it to pulse green. I’d been told that would happen, and once its companion crystal went off in our allies’ homeland, they would immediately take flight for Equestria, arriving within half a day.

“It is done,” he said, and even I felt a thrill—or was it a chill?—go through me, knowing that we were now committed; the summons could not be taken back and within hours we would be at war.

“For the Empire, for the entire world, and for Gryphons everywhere… destiny is upon us. We attack at dawn, and may both our allies and ancestors be with us…”

---

’Tis certain I had much the same prayer at that point, Ambassador. ’Tis odd how we both invoke the divine and tried to pit our respective gods against each other, only to be reminded that their designs go far beyond our humble affairs. As I look back on these events now, I am reminded of a great pony’s words at the end of a past conflict, one that ended the abominable institution of stallion servitude— “The prayers of both sides could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The gods have their own purposes.”

Though ’tis also certain that I could not discern any possible purpose for the madness that was about to overtake us.

Played for Fools

“Mother…?” Gavian asked me as I’d gone uncharacteristically silent, studying the documents I’d been given by the Changeling drone in the privacy of my stateroom. I’d finally gotten the chance now that I’d filed incident reports with 5th Division HQ and received word back from Gamma that the EIS would arrive to collect our prisoners and guest as well as the documents she'd brought us in the morning. But I had good reason to go quiet. What I was seeing was alarming. Neigh, terrifying. “What’s the matter?” He knew me well enough by then to tell how troubled, if not shaken to my very core I was.

Osprey stuck her head in my stateroom before I could reply; her expression worried as she saw my own. “Word from the healers, ma’am. They regret to report the Changeling is dead. They tried to save her, but they couldn’t. She used up all her…” she scrunched up her nose before continuing, her voice uncertain, “… love, the healers said, and died of her wounds after making one final entry in her journal, which she wished you to have.” She passed me the book. “One odd thing. The healers said she thanked us for our friendship and then her wings started sparkling just before she passed.”

“Thank you, Flight Sergeant,” I acknowledged, accepting the odd diary but putting it on the bottom of the document pile. I had no idea what sparkling wings meant, but methinks I had far graver concerns just then. “Will you and Gavian please gather all platoon commanders and command staff and bring them to the watchtower?” I instructed, my voice uncharacteristically subdued.

“Everypony, ma’am?” she asked with a glance at an equally confused and worried Gavian.

“Everypony,” I confirmed quietly, turning my attention back to the purloined documents as they exited. A great chill went through me as I studied them, one I’d last felt when I realized I’d been tricked in the pre-Hearth’s Warming raid. They were annotated in Aeric, but I didn’t need to read the language to recognize unit icons overlaid on a map of Equestria, and understand what the symbols and lines meant, depicting large numbers of Knight-reinforced Talon legions attacking Equestria out of invasion tunnels that terminated just short of the border—suddenly the increased Diamond Dog activity took on an ominous new meaning—and wiping out our frontier forces in a single massive attack. There were also indications of planned raids on targets far back from the border; even Fort Spur and Cloudsdale had first-night strikes indicated against them. Some form of operation was also indicated against Canterlot, but I had no idea what, not knowing what those particular symbols meant.

After five more minutes of study, I took flight for the watchtower myself, still holding the sheath of documents in my hooves and reading them as I flew. I was barely aware of arriving or those present; Fell Flight, Swift Strike, my four platoon commanders and the Celestial Guardsponies, each asking what was happening only to stop short when they saw my face, still buried in the captured battle plans. The subsequent pages had gotten no better, detailing a follow-on campaign that terminated in but two months, ending with more than half of Equestria under gryphon control and Canterlot itself occupied.

There was even a sheet containing a proposed war declaration written in both Aeric and Equish. It outlined gryphon grievances and laid out their justification for war, citing everything from the ‘atrocity’ of our superstorm strike to the ’tyranny’ of Celestia’s control over the sun and moon. They called the Sun Princess a threat to not just them but the entire world, one that had to be expunged ‘for the good of all’, stating their intention was to ‘liberate the very skies’ from her ‘unnatural alicorn power’.

’Twasn’t clear from the documents exactly how they planned to accomplish that, but ’twas impossible they hadn’t come up with a way to deal with Celestia given they’d seemingly thought of everything else. Their invasions plan were utterly brilliant, to say nothing incredibly well thought out.

And worst of all, for as flat-hooved as they’d caught us, they could work.

I read as far as the war declaration draft before I had to stop. I sat back heavily as I felt faint and shaky, passing the plans off to the others without another word whilst I stared out over a suddenly-far more menacing border canyon into the darkness of gryphon territory. I heard their stunned voices as the contents of the documents registered, shock giving way to dismay and then dead silence, just like me.

I wanted desperately to believe it was all a fake—the gryphons working with a race they considered as dirty and dishonorable as the Diamond Dogs was unbelievable enough—but what could a Changeling hive possibly hope to accomplish by tricking us? Why go to these lengths, creating such elaborate and well-thought war plans? Why did this one drone sacrifice her very life getting it to us? And why were the Ravens chasing her if she didn’t have damning information, willing to kill her to stop her? From what little we knew of them, Changelings were said to feed on love, but how would war do anything but potentially starve them, drowning them in hate? So what did they have to gain by this?

“Perchance the proper question to ask, ma’am… is what did they have to lose?” Fell Flight mused when I asked my question aloud. I would get the answer soon enough when she reached the bottom of the stack and found the letter written by the Changeling Queen to Celestia, saying in effect that they could not stand by and see their greatest source of love—of life itself—lost by our potential defeat. That our deaths very possibly meant theirs, and thus, they saw fit to warn us and would help us in the coming conflict in whatever ways they could, slipping us information and intelligence when possible.

Their reasons made sense, and with that, all remaining doubt left me. “Your conclusions, Master Sergeant?” I prompted quietly, my own now certain.

“There is only one possible, ma’am,” she answered in an equally grim voice to the nods of all. “The gryphons have played us all for foals.”

They had indeed, leaving us wondering how in the name of the sun and moon we had missed all this, or been so foalish as to think that the gryphons could be cowed even by Celestia herself. But it mattered not now, as I considered what the gryphon response would be to the possibility of these plans reaching us. If the documents could be believed, their attack was not scheduled to launch for another seven weeks (as noted by Swift Strike, who could read as well as speak Aeric), but in order to meet that deadline they had to have considerable force in place already, their legions awaiting the order to attack in their underground bunkers, safe from both a superstorm strike and the prying eyes of the EIS.

“Ma’am. Orders?” Fell Flight prompted, Swift Strike and the others looking on with equally grim expressions. “This cannot wait until morning. We have to get these plans to Gamma and Canterlot immediately. We must also consider the possibility that the gryphons now know we have them…” she reminded me ominously.

“I know…” I didn’t reply further right away, putting myself in the wings of the gryphon commander, now-Prelate Gaius. I had no idea how he had survived his earlier failure, but it mattered not then. I imagined him facing the exposure of his plans and what loss of surprise could mean… and what, in the end, he would be forced to do, coming up with but a single answer, as inescapable as it was terrifying. “We must assume that they do. And therefore…” I removed my red command gem as they watched, found the special notch and inserted it onto a certain post in the watchtower, pushing it down until it clicked. I then took a deep breath, and, knowing my next action could not be taken back, gave it a sharp quarter turn to the right.

It immediately lit up as alarms began to blare outpost-wide, its companion gems glowing and vibrating in their casing, emitting a shrill sound that could be heard for miles around. It would also cause an alert to sound in the communications room of Gamma and nearby army bases, which I would follow up with warning messages and copies of the stolen battle plans I could have our healer unicorns or Still Way make. But first, I had to see to my own outpost, so I next drew my blue gem and spoke into it, my voice booming throughout the base:

“Attention, soldiers of Outpost Epsilon! This is Commander Firefly! The Gryphons are coming! Invasion is imminent! This is not a drill! I repeat, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! WE ARE NOW AT WAR ALERT!”

---

And methinks we were no less in a panic on our side of the border that night, Captain. ’Twas to the great credit of our soldiers and the Prelate’s planning that we were doing as well as we were, our forces scrambling but quickly organizing, readying for immediate action. —Layan Kaval

* * * * *

The underground installation beneath former Raptor base was alive with activity as dawn neared.

Orders were issued, message runners dispatched—a literal term in some cases, since for the most part we couldn’t fly through the tunnels—and some critical decisions were made about what to do with our more limited forces. The Talons already had their orders thanks to the Prelate’s foresight in devising contingency plans, but we faced some tricky choices about carrying out the initial operations we’d wanted to.

More than a dozen deep-strike raids by well-rehearsed Knights and Ravens were scheduled to be launched on the first night of the war. Their intent was not just to severely disrupt Equestrian command and control, but cripple their morale as well as their ability to wage war, leave their fighting spirit wounded and unable to easily replenish their losses. Every major facility from Royal Guard training grounds at Fort Spur to the large Army and Navy bases at Stalliongrad were supposed to be struck, but with only half our forces in place and some operations as-yet unpracticed, we could not carry them all out.

So we would have to prioritize. Some choices were easy—Cloudsdale and Fort Spur were left on the target list since they were very important to the Equestrian war effort; one for being the source of their storm cloud production and the other for its Guardspony training as well as its symbolism. Both were located within two hundred leagues of the border, making a long-range raid feasible. Other locations, like Stalliongrad, would have to be left off the target list for now since we would be asking our forces to fly five hundred leagues in daylight through hostile airspace to destroy three airships that were of questionable value anyway given the Equestrian Navy’s poor readiness and training.

That brought up another issue: our raids were supposed to be launched in darkness, not daylight, but if we waited the twelve hours until night fell again—assuming Celestia didn’t keep the sun up to help her forces fight—we would find those bases fully alert and ready for battle, making failure far more likely. So the decision was made to launch select raids in daylight using the strikes on the border bases as cover; with the entirety of the Aerial Corps 5th Division in a fight for their lives, they’d have nothing to spare to stop us.

Other operations we would contract out to various raider groups we’d retained, as some targets were not far from the border and had no need for stealth or subtlety, such as striking both the civilian and naval shipyards at Fillydelphia and Baltimare. The Magma and Aqua groups had been contacted and stood ready to make a mess of both, with the admonishment that they not engage in wholesale slaughter of Equestrian civilians, warning there would be Tartarus to pay from both sides if they did. ’Twas not a question of mercy or honor as the simple fact that we wanted the ponies pacified; we needed use of those ports for ourselves later and a restive populace would not help.

I again asked to personally lead the Fort Spur raid given the previously designated Talaeus commander was unavailable, but the Prelate declined. He reminded me he needed my quill pen and counsel for what was certain to be a chaotic first day of operations, launched with little notice as it was. “You will get in the fight, my friend, that I promise you, but for now, you can best serve me here,” he told me, so I named another Talaeus in my place—Centurion Pylea, a trusted comrade and commander, combat expert and veteran of the war against the Elder Rams who relished the challenge she was presented with—fighting Guardsponies and avenging a stain on Red Talon honor.

I still believe we made the best choices we could that night given what we had and what we knew. And yet, in the end, ’twas not just one, not just two, but three of those decisions we would greatly rue.

---

Perchance you didst, Ambassador, but I promise you, not as much as we did that morning. And methinks I am eternally glad you didst not lead that raid, for the outcome might have been far different and result in the loss of my beloved sister as well as my mentor.

The Storm Approaches

As dawn broke over the Canyon, Epsilon stood ready. For what, we did not yet know.

We had gone on war footing according to existing plans, ones we had drilled repeatedly in the past. The entire base was roused and on alert, my soldiers fully armed and armored; with two platoon-sized patrols keeping watch far out over the canyon. If gryphons were spotted, their orders were not to engage, but to report in immediately and fall back towards Epsilon so we could fight as a battalion instead of being overwhelmed squad by squad. The healers were likewise ready, their infirmary awaiting casualties, and—thanks to Master Sergeant Still Way—they were also armed with plenty of protection spells and unicorn longbows for defense.

After sending the documents to Gamma, we received a terse reply back within the hour from Sirocco: “I pray this is fake, but we cannot assume so. Corps Command and Canterlot have been notified. By my order, all outposts GO TO WAR ALERT!” I’d also dispatched a message to the nearest Equestrian Army base of Outpost Blue telling them that an invasion was imminent. But ’tis certain that had been less well-received; I’d gotten an incredulous reply back from their unicorn mare colonel asking if I had been drinking or had simply lost my mind.

I responded with copies of the invasion plans we’d been smuggled, far too detailed to be fake. The latter was done against all security protocols, but they had to know and be ready. I could only hope they believed them and understood the implications.

In the event of war with the Gryphons, existing battle plans called for all Aerial Corps border battalions to be immediately reinforced from four air platoons to twelve, thus tripling their strength and—in theory—giving them enough ponypower to both hold their bases and carry out slashing counterattacks against enemy air raids. In the event of invasion, the Equestrian Army would act as the anvil, holding all towns and critical points and bleeding gryphon forces dry whilst the Corps would be the hammer that would smash attacking forces to pieces between us.

Such plans might have been sound, were it not for two now-clearly invalid assumptions. First, we couldn’t see that the gryphons could support an attack so far from their homeland at the end of an incredibly long supply chain with more than about eight legions, but the plans said they had at least thirty earmarked for the invasion. And second, they assumed that the EIS and Lances would provide at least a degree of warning that would in turn allow reinforcements to be rushed to the border and our battalions to be brought up to full wartime strength.

The last time such rapid reinforcement had been carried out for something other than a drill was for the Phoenix Fire operation, and given the gryphons could only muster ten legions at the time, it proved an effective deterrent. But this time, we were caught off guard with a thinly held border and our overall readiness low; we had but half the 5th Division backed by five half-strength Equestrian Army divisions. A few thousand poorly trained earth pony militia in various towns and villages didn’t count for much in my view, but even including them, that gave us but 20,000 troops to hold nearly eight hundred miles of border…

Even assuming they had but half their allotted forces available given the early onset of war, we would be facing an invading force of at least 75,000 well-trained and highly mobile soldiers backed by likely a legion or two more of Knights, giving them a better than four to one advantage in effective numbers. And with an entire Talon legion assigned to my own sector with the apparent intent of turning our border defenses at our presumed weakest point, my own battalion could be outnumbered at least twenty to one.

’Twas a daunting thought to say the least, but my sole comfort was again that ’twas unlikely at best they would have their entire intended force available or would concentrate everything they had against us alone. Perchance that and being forewarned might yet grant us a fighting chance.

Mother and Son

“Mother?” Gavian asked me as we watched the sunrise from the tower, wringing his paws nervously. He’d kept his distance, knowing I had to get the battalion ready to fight, but now that we were as ready as we were going to be, he approached me. “What should I do?”

“Gavian, I want you to stay well out of sight,” I told him. “Methinks you can help out in the infirmary if you want, but do not try to join us in battle.”

“But I can fight, mother!” His foretalons went to his sword.

“No!” I said forcefully, then realizing how that sounded to him, I turned to him and placed my hooves on his shoulders. “Listen to me, Gavian. I know you can fight, but you have no armor. And in a battle with gryphon soldiers, you could easily be slain by accident. Or deliberately by the Talons if they recognize you as a traitor,” I reminded him. “Talons aren’t raiders. They’re well-trained soldiers and are not to be trifled with.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I told him. “We’re shortly going to be at war, and I don’t want you taking part in it,” I finished, though methinks I knew even then that like so many of my other designs, this was yet another promise that couldn’t be kept. “And if the worst should happen and this outpost be lost, you are to flee into Gryphon territory and pass yourself off as civilian.”

“No, mother!” he said emphatically and drew his sword. “I will not flee! I will not return to the Empire! And I will not stand by and do nothing whilst you fight and my adoptive country is attacked!” he told me, as he’d been taking particular pride in learning and using big words lately. “If I am to truly be your son, then my place is here at your side. And if fate should decree that you should fall, then I will fall with you!” he proclaimed, reminding me that his gryphon blood would not allow anything else. “My sword is at your command!”

I felt my eyes go misty at the love and devotion in his voice, hugging him hard. “Then my command, my brave and noble son, is that you help out in the infirmary and defend it if attacked,” I told him. “Tend to the wounded but stay inside and do not expose yourself unless absolutely necessary.”

“I will obey,” he promised, saluting me with his sword before sheathing it again. He then raised his gaze to mine and let me see the fear in his eyes. “I’m scared, mother,” he admitted as the first rays of the sun appeared over the horizon, afraid of not just what would happen to him, but me and all of his new friends.

“I am too,” I told him truthfully, holding him tightly as I wondered what the morning would bring…

War Has Come

And whether I or anypony else would survive it. Though I’d never been one to pray to the sun and moon goddesses before, I did so here. I prayed for my nation and my battalion; I prayed for Gavian and my family. I prayed for Fell Flight and Stormrunner, for Blindside and Swift Strike. I prayed for the Celestial Guardsponies, for Osprey now out on patrol and, indeed all my forces soon to face their fate. I prayed for Mother and Father, I prayed for Wind Whistler… and swallowed hard, suddenly remembering that according to the gryphon plans, Fort Spur was targeted for some form of raid.

Be on your guard, sister… I told her with my thoughts as fresh alarms went off in the watchtower, intrusion detection enchantments signaling that the border was being breached in our sector but outside of our patrol rang. They indicated that Epsilon was either being bypassed, or they were moving to surround us.

The alerts were quickly followed up by a series of increasingly frantic emergency messages on the crystal network indicating assassinations and attacks all along the frontier; I even thought I might have a heard a panicked report that an Aerial Corps base had been destroyed by an explosion of their own storm cloud cache. I barely had time to process it before my command gem began buzzing, a prearranged signal from Fell Flight or Stormrunner indicating that the Gryphons had been sighted and they were falling back to Epsilon.

Giving Gavian one last hard hug, I pulled on my helmet and then took to the air, assuming position at the front of my reserve company, deploying my wingblades. My heart raced as my two patrolling platoons returned squad by squad in good order and a full cohort of Talons shortly came into view. The sight of a five hundred-strong formation coming right at us and then fanning out to encircle us was very intimidating, and yet now, with war upon us and engagement imminent, all I could think at that moment in time was…

How did it come to this?

Author's Note:

Nothing else to say, folks, except... it begins. A guest chapter from Denim_Blue is coming next detailing the theft of the invasion plans and Plexippa’s flight, followed by one final interlude detailing the story of Windshear’s Defender of Harmony award, which for reasons that will be clear later, must be told before the war begins. Usual thanks go to AJ_Aficionado for writing the alternate Half-Breed lyrics as well as being the one to originally suggest that song would work well for Fell Flight, to SilentWoodfire and Denim_Blue for prereads and loading the google doc with comments, and of course to Leo Archon, who contributed a large chunk of the Fell Flight-narrated Raven section. A collaborative effort, this moment has been a long time building, so hope the wait was worth it!

Comments

[AJ Aficionado]

I take full blame for the Half Breed Parody. I gave it the alternate title of Bat Breed. I was reading the Fell Flight chapter; the song popped into my head and the song was finished an hour later — less time than it takes me to write a Traditional Mongolian Longpost.

Happiness and joy. Love and hate. Anxiety and fear. Sorrow and Loss. Rage and regret. Triumph and terror.

No remorse
No regret
We don't care
What it meant
Another Day
Another death
Another sorrow
Another breath...
ATTAAAAACK!

(God, I dig that song so hard.)

Or perchance not so strange as a black-suited figure shot out of the bushes, blade in mouth. She was on me in moments only to have her attack instantly parried by a knife hidden up my sleeve, and suddenly the space between us was filled with flashing blade gleams, punctuated by the startled shouts of Gavian and Firefly. I knew my opponent well by her technique and favored combinations alone, as she was one of the few who’d ever been able to best me, even if only infrequently. Still, the fight was exhilarating, an aerial dance of strike and counterstrike that ended as quickly as it began with blades at each other’s throats… at which point we lowered them and laughed, sheathing our weapons and returning to the ground.

It's like Kill Bill with ponies. When the box of cereal spills after the Bride's first kill, I cry every time. ---->(F) You were loved Fruit Loops...

“And you as well,” she rejoined, then turned to her agape daughter. “You’ll forgive my welcome, Firefly. ’Tis something of a tradition we have in the Lances and a way to ensure constant readiness.”

Constant vigilance you might say.

news.bbc.co.uk/nol/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/05/entertainment_goblet_of_fire/img/3.jpg

When asked if it was to his liking, he bared his throat and said he felt flattered and honored by such luxury. Gryphons, we’d seen on various operations, didn’t use beds for the most part; their soldiers and even most of their civilians were content to sleep on a simple pile of straw.

This is a small gripe, but you ever notice how many warrior races follow the Spartan model of headcanon builds? Why can't more warrior races be like the French? Cultured, articulate, romantic, intelligent, and so foul smelling the British can smell them clear across the channel when the island is upwind. Sacre bleu!

In all seriousness, they've a long history of being not only the most civilized nation in Europe, but it's most psychotic in battle. Read some accounts from the battle of Waterloo or their finest hour: The Crimean War. As an example, infantryman from the French army climbed the Malakoff — a huge wall, bristling with cannons outside the city of Sevastopol — in which they scaled the bulwark by hooking into it with hatchets in each hand. Pretty based stuff.

Speaking of Gavian, he ended up playing with some of the younger foals. I found him engaging in a mock wrestling match and being buried by an avalanche of colts and fillies, all laughing and giggling.

D'awww! He's a child at heart.

He waited until we had a bit more altitude until replying, showing all the lush hills and the pristine skies, the verdant forests and colorful buildings of Spur. “Methinks I like Equestria,” he told me, staring out over it all in contentment. “Methinks I want to stay here forever now.”

You and everyone else on this site. Seriously, where's my portal?

I did my own part by quietly “suggesting” to a few ponies heading out on two-day leaves that they might perchance obtain some various ciders and other party fare. They did me one better, as it turned out, getting a few kegs, fresh vegetables and cakes delivered to our door with a regular supply run via a bribed naval transport unicorn, who agreed to bring them on the condition that she be allowed to partake, which we arranged by ‘discovering’ some damage to her transport on arrival that forced her to stay at Epsilon overnight.

It was the damndest thing; there were huge chunks taken out of the hull as if a crazed lumberjack had been climbing it. I'm never going to be able to explain this one to the C.O.

Though the Aching Drum didn’t serve meat, it did have plenty of apples and grapes, good bread and cheese, and he happily ate them all—he enjoyed our soft crusty breads much more than the stale gryphon scones he’d occasionally stolen, he told us, whilst milk and cheese were unknown in the Empire, lacking friendly bovines

Is milk racist in Equestria as well?

Deciding somewhat drunkenly ’Twould be fun to embarrass her, I told her to go up with the band and sing. I may not remember much else, but she went up there and belted out some surprisingly powerful lyrics set to a very moving melody quite strongly, and despite my drink I remember the words quite well:

There is something cringy as hell about reading my own work. I can't even read my own stories outside of Fertile Ground (bring an open mind to that one if anyone reading this gives it a try). But given the time put into this song, it really turned out well. Firesight thought it was great anyway.

My father married a thestral pony.

The other ponies are afraid of me.

The Thestrals said I was a pony in name.

For the Lunar Rebellion, I am now to blame.

Ahh yes. Thestrals are basically monsters to most ponies for their involvement with Nightmare Moon's reign. We'll be hearing a lot about about them in time. I've crafted some headcanon for them as well as the Saddle Arabians. Consider it canon to the Gentlemanverse as well.

Half-breed! Bullied all along the way.

Half-breed! Can’t hardly see in the day.

Half-breed! “She’ll double cross us”, they said.

Both sides would rather have a purebreed instead

I must stress the song construction to Half Breed is extremely basic. Honestly, they're better lyrics than the actual song in a way — not that it's saying much. I think the original was written on a napkin at an Appleby's restaurant.

Me and my family never could settle down

No thestrals welcome in our ‘humble’ town.

Never found friendship, only got into fights.

Got my flank kicked when I was hit with bright lights.

That one gave me a bit of trouble, particularly the last line.

I joined the Corps, “all are equal” they said.

But daytime training put me in a hospital bed.

So I got new lenses to help myself see.

And now the Chickenhawks are scared of me!

This is my favorite! Yeah, this is much better than Cher's half-assed garbage. This version has a storyline and a plot. No car commercial-tier special effects either.

Well. After that mortifying memory—and where did I even come up with those lyrics?

The same place Fertile Ground came from. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Her good eye went wide. “You have an earth pony coltfriend?” she looked shocked.

“Aye. His name is Topsail and he is a dockworker and mariner in Baltimare. I fell for him whilst I was there to get my lenses implanted. He is a fine, strong stallion who saw past my thestral eyes and pegasus wings from the start. And better yet, he can rut as hard as he wrestles.”

It's making me whinny just thinking about it!

The description baffled me, but Blindside sucked in a breath. “A changeling!” she gasped. “I’ve read about them, but never thought I’d see one!”

I blame Denim Blue!

Wew lad. This comment is getting too long. Will post 2/2 later tonight. This chapter is friggin awesome though! Had a lot of fun working on it. And I'll write more songs if you need. I have a diverse musical palette and do like the challenge.

[TheGMan]

First things first:

1) IT'S ON!!!! (After almost two years by the way ...)

2) Changelings, uh? Well, I guess the Prelate did not see that one coming. Literally.

3) It's interesting to note that both sides had been caught by surprise. At least the gryphons have an edge, regarding numbers and troop quality, but the question is how much time it will last.

4)

How did it come to this…?

Is it that taken from The Two Towers?

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

The peace has been broken... let loose the hounds of war....

No matter what... WE WILL NOT BACK DOWN!

[Posted]

This chapter certainly took the pace from 0-60 in the space of a few paragraphs. You did a fantastic job making me feel the urgency on both sides.

As for the changeling hero-spy, I did not see that coming.

I like the supposed logic the Queen gave as well. We aren't helping you because we like you, we're acting to protect out food supply.

[Firesight]

8046146

1) A year and two-thirds. And it may have taken a while to get there, but there was plenty of good story along the way and it was the right way to go about it, with lots of character development and worldbuilding. And now that you know the characters and world, the war becomes far more meaningful.

2) Nope! And you'll see exactly how they did it next chapter.

3) Bingo. Victory here will be decided by who adapts fastest and how quickly the Equestrians can learn.

4) Bingo again. That's not the only reference in the chapter, however.

8046148

That's a great song! I think I'll try to use it in a future chapter...

8047817

Thank you! 0-60 indeed, but it was the same for both sides at that point as both were caught off guard and forced to scramble.

Denim_Blue deserves credit for the Changeling, as you'll shortly see. There's going to be a guest chapter released, written by him detailing the theft of the plans and flight of Plexippa. You'll learn more about how and why they to decided to help the Equestrians too.

[Firesight]

8046016

I take full blame for the Half Breed Parody. I gave it the alternate title of Bat Breed. I was reading the Fell Flight chapter; the song popped into my head and the song was finished an hour later — less time than it takes me to write a Traditional Mongolian Longpost.

I remember the first time you shared them with me. I was quite impressed! All this time, just been waiting for the right time to use it. I did ask TheGoldCrow if any of his VA friends could sing it, but he said he asked around and nobody thought they could do it justice.

Happiness and joy. Love and hate. Anxiety and fear. Sorrow and Loss. Rage and regret. Triumph and terror.

[song lyrics]

(God, I dig that song so hard.)

I'll have to find a place for it in a later chapter!

Or perchance not so strange as a black-suited figure shot out of the bushes, blade in mouth.

It's like Kill Bill with ponies. When the box of cereal spills after the Bride's first kill, I cry every time. ---->(F) You were loved Fruit Loops...

Fun fact--I never tried that cereal. Mom wouldn't let us eat sugar cereals growing up, saying they were junk food. So I didn't try them until college, and by the time, they were too sweet for me.

“And you as well,” she rejoined, then turned to her agape daughter. “You’ll forgive my welcome, Firefly. ’Tis something of a tradition we have in the Lances and a way to ensure constant readiness.”

Constant vigilance you might say. http://news.bbc.co.uk/nol/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/05/entertainment_goblet_of_fire/img/3.jpg

Admittedly, Mad-Eye Moody is one of my favorite characters out of the whole series. You know he's seen some shit, and not just out of his one eye.

When asked if it was to his liking, he bared his throat and said he felt flattered and honored by such luxury. Gryphons, we’d seen on various operations, didn’t use beds for the most part; their soldiers and even most of their civilians were content to sleep on a simple pile of straw.

This is a small gripe, but you ever notice how many warrior races follow the Spartan model of headcanon builds? Why can't more warrior races be like the French?

It's a valid point. But in my defense, I had to go with this model given what was said and described in Feathered Heart.

Cultured, articulate, romantic, intelligent, and so foul smelling the British can smell them clear across the channel when the island is upwind. Sacre bleu!

Probably explains why they make exquisite perfumes: to cover up their own BO like in medieval times, where everyone stunk to high heaven and some people walked around with a bouquet of flowers held to their nose to try to cover the odors.

Seriously, that the French don't care about BO is cliched but true. I had a flight postponed a couple years back because somebody a few rows ahead of me had very bad BO and other passengers were complaining; one threatening to sue if they didn't take the offender off. We'd already pulled back from the gate and they went back to it to address the complaint, but the end result was they said that they couldn't remove somebody for being smelly. Fortunately they were far enough away that I didn't get any more than a whiff, but it must've been a long flight for anyone near them.

In all seriousness, they've a long history of being not only the most civilized nation in Europe, but it's most psychotic in battle. Read some accounts from the battle of Waterloo or their finest hour: The Crimean War. As an example, infantryman from the French army climbed the Malakoff — a huge wall, bristling with cannons outside the city of Sevastopol — in which they scaled the bulwark by hooking into it with hatchets in each hand. Pretty based stuff.

They've got a reputation for surrendering after WW2, but not that's really fair to them. Historically, they've had an excellent military and many notable figures.

Speaking of Gavian, he ended up playing with some of the younger foals. I found him engaging in a mock wrestling match and being buried by an avalanche of colts and fillies, all laughing and giggling.

D'awww! He's a child at heart.

That, and in that moment he finally got to have a childhood and actually play!

He waited until we had a bit more altitude until replying, showing all the lush hills and the pristine skies, the verdant forests and colorful buildings of Spur. “Methinks I like Equestria,” he told me, staring out over it all in contentment. “Methinks I want to stay here forever now.”

You and everyone else on this site. Seriously, where's my portal?

I don't know. Just keep an eye off the coast of the Philippines...

I did my own part by quietly “suggesting” to a few ponies heading out on two-day leaves that they might perchance obtain some various ciders and other party fare. They did me one better, as it turned out, getting a few kegs, fresh vegetables and cakes delivered to our door with a regular supply run via a bribed naval transport unicorn, who agreed to bring them on the condition that she be allowed to partake, which we arranged by ‘discovering’ some damage to her transport on arrival that forced her to stay at Epsilon overnight.

It was the damndest thing; there were huge chunks taken out of the hull as if a crazed lumberjack had been climbing it. I'm never going to be able to explain this one to the C.O.

Especially when she shows up the next day covered with lipstick and with a lampshade on her head!

Though the Aching Drum didn’t serve meat, it did have plenty of apples and grapes, good bread and cheese, and he happily ate them all—he enjoyed our soft crusty breads much more than the stale gryphon scones he’d occasionally stolen, he told us, whilst milk and cheese were unknown in the Empire, lacking friendly bovines

Is milk racist in Equestria as well?

Good question! And better yet, will bovines and other creatures fight for Equestria? Probably, if they think the gryphons will just treat them a meat!

Deciding somewhat drunkenly ’Twould be fun to embarrass her, I told her to go up with the band and sing. I may not remember much else, but she went up there and belted out some surprisingly powerful lyrics set to a very moving melody quite strongly, and despite my drink I remember the words quite well:

There is something cringy as hell about reading my own work. I can't even read my own stories outside of Fertile Ground (bring an open mind to that one if anyone reading this gives it a try). But given the time put into this song, it really turned out well. Firesight thought it was great anyway.

I have the same problem, you know. Certain scenes I've written it's like I have to reread through my fingers. Not even necessarily because I think it's badly written, but because of the theme. May surprise you to know that happens with TLaTU a lot, and also with that one chapter of 5SS regarding the honeymoon debauchery. As hot as it was to me at the time, It's very hard for me to reread now. It's like. "Did I REALLY do that? Wow, I am one sick puppy..."

And yet somehow, it doesn't stop me from doing more!

My father married a thestral pony.
The other ponies are afraid of me.
The Thestrals said I was a pony in name.
For the Lunar Rebellion, I am now to blame.

Ahh yes. Thestrals are basically monsters to most ponies for their involvement with Nightmare Moon's reign. We'll be hearing a lot about about them in time. I've crafted some headcanon for them as well as the Saddle Arabians. Consider it canon to the Gentlemanverse as well.

Indeed we will be hearing about them. And I assume you'd like to do some of the writing for them?

I must stress the song construction to Half Breed is extremely basic. Honestly, they're better lyrics than the actual song in a way — not that it's saying much. I think the original was written on a napkin at an Appleby's restaurant.

Cher went to Applebys? Hmmm...

Me and my family never could settle down
No thestrals welcome in our ‘humble’ town.
Never found friendship, only got into fights.
Got my flank kicked when I was hit with bright lights.

That one gave me a bit of trouble, particularly the last line.

But you killed it in the end!

I joined the Corps, “all are equal” they said.
But daytime training put me in a hospital bed.
So I got new lenses to help myself see.
And now the Chickenhawks are scared of me!

This is my favorite! Yeah, this is much better than Cher's half-assed garbage. This version has a storyline and a plot. No car commercial-tier special effects either.

Yeah, that really was a crappy video, even for the day.

Well. After that mortifying memory—and where did I even come up with those lyrics?

The same place Fertile Ground came from. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Then it's a fertile ground indeed! And what, pray tell, will it spawn next...?

Her good eye went wide. “You have an earth pony coltfriend?” she looked shocked.

“Aye. His name is Topsail and he is a dockworker and mariner in Baltimare. I fell for him whilst I was there to get my lenses implanted. He is a fine, strong stallion who saw past my thestral eyes and pegasus wings from the start. And better yet, he can rut as hard as he wrestles.”

It's making me whinny just thinking about it!

Her too! She doesn't roll over for anyone, except him! And even with him, they wrestle first. That's an odd irony with Fell Flight--in overall temperament and desires she's not at all unlike a gryphon; to the point she even enjoys what amounts to rounds! They got friendly following a bar brawl, after all...

The description baffled me, but Blindside sucked in a breath. “A changeling!” she gasped. “I’ve read about them, but never thought I’d see one!”

I blame Denim Blue!

He's now corrupted my story with his Blindside ship AND his changeling fetish! And damned if I'm not glad for it...

Wew lad. This comment is getting too long. Will post 2/2 later tonight. This chapter is friggin awesome though! Had a lot of fun working on it. And I'll write more songs if you need. I have a diverse musical palette and do like the challenge.

Thank you! It was actually not as easy as the Firefly chapters I've done recently; certainly came nowhere near as easily as the last one I did where it was written in a single day! But even if it took a couple weeks overall, I really like the way it turned out and how it all came together in the end. Your song is a very nice part of it, and thank you again for the lyrics! I imagine I will have plenty of cause to use that talent again in the chapters to come...

[AJ Aficionado]

And I'm back for round two... a bit late.

“Is thief!” one of them said, pointing at the huddled, bleeding creature. Their stances were sloppy. “Give… to… us!”

He stole my sombrero and my taco bowl!

I do not have your sombrero!

See!? He ate my taco bowl! He's a thief!

Sirs, I'm going to need to see some ID...

“Quite personal. We are but humble farmers, seeking the return of our stolen gems and land titles,” the eagless said evenly.

Just a bit of a public service announcement for you internet wayfarers out there. When someone says, "as an X, I think..." they are either: 1. Not X or 2. Do not see themselves as X, or as an X second and a Y first. In short, they are Y posing as an X. This is true in 100 out of 100 cases. Very common example is 'As a white person..." or "My fellow white people...". X will never ever explain who they are in casual conversation because it is not on their minds. Only Y is thinking about such things because they are actively trying to deceive you for personal gain and or survival; and because not all Y are good at their jobs, they'll try to beg for credibility by claiming to be X. DO NOT FALL FOR IT.

That is all. Now let us hope this crappy meme will finally die on leftist twitter.

They glanced at each other and then the eagless smirked. Realizing they were found out, she dropped her facade, her combat stance sharpening as her expression went hard and fearless, answering in perfect Equish. ”Methinks I could make you the same offer, bat-pony…” she addressed me, leaving me wondering what kind of dossier the Office of Owls kept on me.

Well if it contains anything like this...

derpicdn.net/img/2012/6/5/4331/large.png

... I'm sure I'd like to see it too!

a whirling dervish

“My compliments, commander. You have trained your troops well for most to still be standing. Though ’tis not entirely a pleasure to meet you. Methinks you and your pet Lance slew several of our comrades some moons ago,”

When you gamble with lives, you're occasionally going to lose — just as with anything else. Get over it.

“Thank you, c-commander. You are very kind. But first…” she levitated her satchel weakly. “Please. Take this…” she pushed the bag to Firefly even as she clutched a second book. “’Twas my mission to deliver these to Equestria. My kindred risked all to steal these plans and bring them to your lands.”

I want to hug the poor dear. Never thought I'd feel so badly for a changeling. A feeling that will surely be more intense when the Denim_Blue guest chapter lands...

It was the nightmare scenario, that our intentions were revealed too soon. The Prelate’s war plan called for a three-phase attack using as many echelons. The first would consist of an overwhelming surprise attack along the entire length of the border to shatter their frontier defenses; a massive strike of sixteen Knight-reinforced legions taking out the entirety of the Aerial Corps 5th Division and the four Equestrian Army divisions backing them, the latter weakened by the loss of half their earth ponies for the harvest season.

Minus the bit about earth ponies, this is how Germany was able to overwhelm Poland so rapidly during WW2. The War of Movement is great against other small countries, even against resistance as brave as that with which the Poles demonstrated. But Equestria is no Poland. She is vast and often treacherous, and the ponies are very numerous — prospering in their resource-rich lands and protected by massive outbreaks of tropical diseases by pagasus-enforced winter season. They will have many reserves to call upon in a long war. This will turn into a Russian invasion soon unless they execute their plan with zero mistakes. And no war comes without mistakes.

Which was not to say we could not do a great of damage with what we had. But would it be enough? “Remove yourself from my sight, Owlet,” the Prelate finally said in a voice of resignation tinged with deepest disgust. “And for such gross negligence and cowardice as you and your master have shown this day, be grateful I will allow you to leave with your life!”

If I could only be so lucky if I gave my boss such a crappy explanation for not getting the job done. Seriously guy, you had one job! Were you on a Union-mandated coffee break? Bloody hell...

“For the Empire, for the entire world, and for Gryphons everywhere… destiny is upon us. We attack at dawn, and may both our allies and ancestors be with us…”

The die is cast.

Giving Gavian one last hard hug, I pulled on my helmet and then took the air, assuming position at the front of my reserve company, deploying my wingblades. My heart raced as my two patrolling platoons returned squad by squad in good order and a full cohort of Talons shortly came into view. The sight of a five hundred-strong formation coming right at us and then fanning out to encircle us was very intimidating, and yet now, with war upon us and engagement imminent, all I could think at that moment was…

How did it come to this…?

Achtung ponies! Der adler ist gelandet!

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

8048882 Glad you enjoyed that!

[Silverblade5]

Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

[-WuBzY]

Ahhh! Been reading this straight for 2 days now and I'm on part 8 now. CAN'T STOP READING! Send help.

[Firesight]

8051028

Thank you very much.

8052278

Sorry, all I can do is feed your addiction with another twenty chapters!

8050987

But you already seduced me to the Blindside of the force! And yet you want even MORE???? Will you not be happy until this story is nothing but an extension of your headcanon, full of fanservice to YOU????

Fine. I bow down before you, master...

[Firesight]

8049943

And I'm back for round two... a bit late.

Fashionably late, to be sure.

See!? He ate my taco bowl! He's a thief!

Sirs, I'm going to need to see some ID...

Not the taco bowl!!!!! Well, at least not my favorite one from Moes, anyway...

Just a bit of a public service announcement for you internet wayfarers out there. When someone says, "as an X, I think..." they are either: 1. Not X or 2. Do not see themselves as X, or as an X second and a Y first. In short, they are Y posing as an X. This is true in 100 out of 100 cases. Very common example is 'As a white person..." or "My fellow white people...". X will never ever explain who they are in casual conversation because it is not on their minds. Only Y is thinking about such things because they are actively trying to deceive you for personal gain and or survival; and because not all Y are good at their jobs, they'll try to beg for credibility by claiming to be X. DO NOT FALL FOR IT.

It's true. It's also true that if someone prefaces a question with "I don't mean to sound like a..." that's exactly what they're going to sound like and what they are. Just own it, people, and stop hedging and prevaricating. Prelate Gaius and the Empress has sentenced underlings to death for less. He can tolerate failure, but he can't tolerate people not taking responsibility or otherwise taking him for a fool.

That is all. Now let us hope this crappy meme will finally die on leftist twitter.

Leftist Twitter is almost redundant. Almost.

They glanced at each other and then the eagless smirked. Realizing they were found out, she dropped her facade, her combat stance sharpening as her expression went hard and fearless, answering in perfect Equish. ”Methinks I could make you the same offer, bat-pony…” she addressed me, leaving me wondering what kind of dossier the Office of Owls kept on me.

Well if it contains anything like this...https://derpicdn.net/img/2012/6/5/4331/large.png ... I'm sure I'd like to see it too!

Well, if you think about it, running the Owl archives office would be a good cover for collecting pony porn! Those would be under the super-restricted wing in the back, where nobody ever goes...

“My compliments, commander. You have trained your troops well for most to still be standing. Though ’tis not entirely a pleasure to meet you. Methinks you and your pet Lance slew several of our comrades some moons ago,”

When you gamble with lives, you're occasionally going to lose — just as with anything else. Get over it.

They're Ravens. They're not supposed to lose or surrender, ever, and being gryphons, they're inclined to avenge insults to the honor of their particular group. I actually grappled with why they'd give up here even though they knew the importance of completing their mission, and what I came up with was, they knew at that point they couldn't prevent the plans from falling into Equestrian hooves, so Swift Strike's words rang true in that by giving up they might be giving their side a better outcome by buying them more time. If they fought to the death then the ponies would know that the Changeling was worth killing and thus give whatever she had more credence, probably even look at the plans immediately and get them to Gamma and points beyond even sooner. This way, they bought precious hours and perhaps some doubt on the Equestrian side.

“Thank you, c-commander. You are very kind. But first…” she levitated her satchel weakly. “Please. Take this…” she pushed the bag to Firefly even as she clutched a second book. “’Twas my mission to deliver these to Equestria. My kindred risked all to steal these plans and bring them to your lands.”

I want to hug the poor dear. Never thought I'd feel so badly for a changeling. A feeling that will surely be more intense when the Denim_Blue guest chapter lands...

You said it. The feels in that chapter...

It was the nightmare scenario, that our intentions were revealed too soon. The Prelate’s war plan called for a three-phase attack using as many echelons. The first would consist of an overwhelming surprise attack along the entire length of the border to shatter their frontier defenses; a massive strike of sixteen Knight-reinforced legions taking out the entirety of the Aerial Corps 5th Division and the four Equestrian Army divisions backing them, the latter weakened by the loss of half their earth ponies for the harvest season.

Minus the bit about earth ponies, this is how Germany was able to overwhelm Poland so rapidly during WW2. The War of Movement is great against other small countries, even against resistance as brave as that with which the Poles demonstrated. But Equestria is no Poland. She is vast and often treacherous, and the ponies are very numerous — prospering in their resource-rich lands and protected by massive outbreaks of tropical diseases by pegasus-enforced winter season. They will have many reserves to call upon in a long war. This will turn into a Russian invasion soon unless they execute their plan with zero mistakes. And no war comes without mistakes.

And it ain't gonna be zero mistakes, I can promise you that. However, all the ponies have right now is a fighting chance given how off-guard they've been caught, and they won't have much margin for error either.

Which was not to say we could not do a great of damage with what we had. But would it be enough? “Remove yourself from my sight, Owlet,” the Prelate finally said in a voice of resignation tinged with deepest disgust. “And for such gross negligence and cowardice as you and your master have shown this day, be grateful I will allow you to leave with your life!”

If I could only be so lucky if I gave my boss such a crappy explanation for not getting the job done. Seriously guy, you had one job! Were you on a Union-mandated coffee break? Bloody hell...

The Gryphon Empire's contract with the Office of Owls local #252 union really needs to be rewritten.

“For the Empire, for the entire world, and for Gryphons everywhere… destiny is upon us. We attack at dawn, and may both our allies and ancestors be with us…”

The die is cast.

Indeed. Or better yet, the cards are dealt before the gryphons had a chance to fully fix the deck.

How did it come to this…?

Achtung ponies! Der adler ist gelandet!

That's a very good video. They certainly did propaganda well. Certainly better than the Serbians...

[Witchery]

After lunch had settled a bit, Silent Night asked to see Gavian’s art and sword skill again. Once he’d been confirmed by her to have gotten even better, both with his sword and with his pen, Silent Knight

[redmar]

From the description of Layan Kaval and earlier descriptions it is clear that the attack on fort Spur will fail just as the attack on Cloudsdale which means that nogryphon who participated in those attacks will return. The third decison they would rue is probably that the navy will be far more important than they assume.

[Firesight]

9434356

From the description of Layan Kaval and earlier descriptions it is clear that the attack on fort Spur will fail just as the attack on Cloudsdale which means that nogryphon who participated in those attacks will return. The third decison they would rue is probably that the navy will be far more important than they assume.

Interesting guesses, but I won’t spoil the answers here. We’ll see in the second book!

[Witchery]

I really, really wish this was available as a physical copy book on Lulu.com.

[Two_Madmans]

There was a moment of silence before Osprey replied. “Negative, Master Sergeant. Methinks it’s not a pony, at least not a kind I’m familiar with. It flies, but is neither pegasus nor thestral. ’Tis equine in appearance, though, with a dark green body, insectile wings and bright blue eyes. It also appears to be wounded and the gryphons are gaining on it.”

Honestly, wasn't expecting changelings. It's actually changeling, right? Because "green body" doesn't fit.

[Black--Soul]

About the attack at the start
The surprise attack catched me of guard... Especially the context and intend. Clever!

Sooo wholesome... Until things went to burning shiiit...

[Firesight]

11137351

Honestly, wasn't expecting changelings. It's actually changeling, right? Because "green body" doesn't fit.

Oops, you’re right. Corrected. And sorry for taking so long to get to this.

[Firesight]

11141792

About the attack at the start
The surprise attack catched me of guard... Especially the context and intend. Clever!

It caught Firefly and Gavian off-guard as well!

Sooo wholesome... Until things went to burning shiiit...

They often do in an instant, whether it’s a tornado striking your house or a sudden outbreak of violence. All you can do is roll with the punch when it happens and try to pick yourself back up.

[PaintedPony]

By chance I'm reading this chapter on the anniversary of the invasion of Normandy. Only in this the invaders are the "baddies", not the good guys. I've enjoyed this story tremendously so far and dread what's to come.

[Firesight]

11264178

My sincerest apologies. I just realized I never answered this. Let me fix that now.

By chance I'm reading this chapter on the anniversary of the invasion of Normandy. Only in this the invaders are the "baddies", not the good guys. I've enjoyed this story tremendously so far and dread what's to come.

How fitting. I’ll raise a toast to those men who stormed the beaches later. I did base this story in part on World War II, but not on D-Day—it’s actually modelled after Operation Barbarossa, the German invasion of the Soviet Union. If you’d like some idea of the enormous scale of that operation, check out this guy’s videos:

[KatieBreeze]

I joined the Corps, “all are equal” they said. But daytime training put me in a hospital bed! So I got new lenses to help myself see, And now the Chickenhawks are afraid of me!

Ok, this song kinda slaps ^.^ I have no idea how people come up with lyrics for things, I've yet to figure it out xD