The War Begins: 17 - Facing Fate
Dear readers—
As I was starting into the story of the final Epsilon battle whilst eating my breakfast, I received some surprise visitors—Ambassador Kaval and his wife, Marquess Kamilya Ampok, came to offer their respects and well-wishes to my father.
But as he was still sleeping and not ready to receive guests, we chatted and I offered up our latest writings for their inspection. What you are about to read is at the suggestion of the latter, who expressed an interest in knowing how those under my command took what they assumed would be their final hours, and what we did during them.
As I thought about it, I realized ‘twould indeed make an excellent addition, and perchance provide a respite to the readers—and the writers—between two heavy combat chapters. And in truth, there is a great deal that happened in those few hours, many stories and revelations that were shared.
‘Tis a window into the minds of doomed soldiers, and how we readied to meet our end—with equal parts fatalism and fanaticism, regrets and remembrances… and perchance a measure of gallows humor.
—Firefly
Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0445 hours
An hour before dawn found the battered remnants of my battalion readying for what we knew would be our final stand.
The superstorm had spent itself in under an hour, to little surprise; once it ran out of the humid air that was its fuel, it could not sustain itself and fizzled quickly. We’d heard the wind and lightning noises die down and finally cease in that time as we nursed our losses and tended our wounded as best we could.
‘Twas not easy with half our healer team down, including, to my sorrow, their leader, Sergeant Herbal Balm. He had been slain by the second Diamond Dog breakthrough during the brief battle, to the grief of his team who had then taken bloody vengeance on the Diamond Dogs that Swift Strike had bypassed because they were stunned by his shock gems. I’d received the full after-action report from those present—after I had found and hugged Gavian, who tried so hard to ‘keep his bearing’ as he’d heard us term it, but finally collapsed in my arms crying when he found me. His blade was bloody but he bore no wounds of his own to my great relief.
“Be proud, for he fought superbly, commander. He took down a Fortis Knight all by himself,” Swift Strike confirmed as I held my sobbing son close. The Sky Sergeant was nursing his own injuries; he’d been peppered by crystal fragments from an explosive bolt that had ominously detonated not on contact, but simply by passing near him. Whatever magical chicanery there was that allowed for such a thing, ‘twas certainly a dangerous new weapon for the gryphons to have, and worse, we had no way to warn Corps Command or Canterlot of it.
Then again, we had no way to inform anypony of our predicament or what we had done; that we yet lived. I conservatively estimated the losses we’d inflicted on the gryphons as well over a millennium of soldiers, but in the end, their now-dead tribune—I admit I was even more inclined to forgive Osprey for going out of contact once she showed me her rank insignia trophy; my only regret was that I had not been able to do the deed myself—had been correct: for all we had done, none would know of our stand here; only that in the end, we fell like all the other border bases.
But we weren’t done yet. Out of the 220 soldiers and staff originally assigned to Epsilon, a roll call revealed that only 148 were left. The rest were casualties of the storm and the gryphons, and of those who remained, most were wounded to one extent or another, nursing everything from severe hail bruises to blade and bolt wounds.
Osprey’s platoon had fared the worst on that score; they’d gotten through the initial battle phase of the superstorm attack nearly unscathed only to lose fifteen soldiers to the horrific tornado suction, pulled to the same gruesome fate as the gryphons. Incredibly, three had been thrown free of the vortex and straggled in afterwards, flayed alive by the windblown debris and in no shape for further action.
The remaining healers were doing what they could, but with the loss of most of their supplies in the battle and much of their magic spent during it, several more soldiers succumbed to their wounds. By the time 0500 hours was reached, I had perchance 130 exhausted effectives left, whilst the gryphons…
Even assuming a millennium and a half of losses from the previous day’s actions, that still left them with seventy percent of a 5,000-strong Talon legion to hit us with, never mind what reinforcements they could pull from other, more successful sectors of the front.
In truth, they needed but a fraction of that for the shape we were in. We had made preparations to receive them, but with our storm clouds gone, there was little we could do beyond barricade the vault doors and not stay concentrated in one place lest they break in again. The unicorns had done what they could do to prevent any further Diamond Dog intrusions into the cavern from any direction, whether floor, wall, or ceiling, though they warned me that their suppression spells would not last forever and the dogs might still manage a breakthrough with enough effort and gryphon magus support.
With dawn still an hour away, but not knowing how much time we had left, we held a brief funeral service for our fallen, piling their few primary feathers we had into a chest along with some hastily written notes and mementos from surviving soldiers to their friends, families, and loved ones.
For myself, I submitted a full accounting of our actions that day and a list of recommended commendations: The Sapphire Star for many soldiers, and for Gavian as we were allowed to award military medals to civilians attached to a unit. The Sapphire Sun for Swift Strike for in large measure winning the Vault battle by himself, saving the lives of the healers and civilians in the process, and ultimately saving the entire battalion by ensuring we could still retreat there when the tornado struck. The Royal Guard’s Guardian Goldstone for First Sergeant Still Way for taking down two gryphon mages by himself in a feat few unicorns could accomplish.
I further asked that honorary Equestrian Army ranks and Opal Spear medals be awarded to our earth pony civilian maintenance crew, who fought as infantry and suffered two dead in the cavern but did not let the Talons break their lines. Archer Agates were requested for the healers who had taken up longbows in the base’s defense, and who had each accounted for several enemy soldiers during the day, primarily during the initial Talon attack and then the Vault battle that followed.
‘Twas only with great reluctance I recommended the Dove of Fidelity—a rather ugly and unhappy award given for being the sole survivor of a lost unit—for Sergeant Sky Sentry at his own request. He added a note to his son and a series of additional primary feathers to the chest he would only say came from mares he knew at Delta before he broke down and cried again. He declined further explanation or decoration, saying he did not wish any reward for being the sole survivor of Delta, nor for taking down a Fortis Knight with his bare hooves. He then went off by himself in a dark corner of the cavern, still trying to come to terms with all that had happened to him.
I also recommended promotions for many, including Corporal Shrike to Sergeant and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall posthumously to First Lieutenant, as the former had performed well commanding the rear guard platoon in Blindside’s absence, whilst the latter had proven every bit the officer and leader he’d been advertised to be. Methinks he was a ‘poster foal’ for the Equestrian Officer Academy, leaving me in deep regret I would never be able to attend it myself.
Once full, the chest was buried eight feet deep and hidden via what was termed to me a ‘shelter spell’ by Still Way, consisting of a series of layered enchantments that would both mask it from detection and preserve its contents indefinitely. It was cast by Still Way himself using magic pulled from the remaining healers, since he had little left of his own. Serene to the end, he told me ‘twould draw on the natural magic of the area to continuously power itself. He further promised it could not be found by all but the most determined Magus, and only if they knew it was there and at least the rough area to look for it.
Unfortunately, that also meant ‘twas unlikely to ever be found by our own side as well. ‘Twas our perchance forlorn hope ‘twould ever be unearthed, and as we knew we were not likely to survive this morn, knowledge of its existence would die with us.
The hole was filled and then trampled hard underhoof, followed by moving a supply chest or two containing dummy possessions on top of it as a ruse. That accomplished, we had done all we could, and thus we settled in to simply wait. The remains of my squads and platoons mingled together around firegems scattered throughout the darkened cavern, spending what little time we had left in each other’s company, sharing a meager last meal of plain hay and even a drink or two—trust the maintenance crew to have slipped in a small keg of their moonshine!—as they reminisced about fallen friends and those they were leaving behind.
‘Twas no different for myself and the rest of the senior staff, who held our own gathering in the center of the cavern. “This is it, my friends,” I told them by flickering firegem light as we poured the last few drops of the moonshine for ourselves, partaking only after the rank-and-file had taken their fill. “We have no more tricks and no more clouds. No chance of rescue nor of surviving another fight. Methinks all we can do now… is take a few more of them with us.”
“And so we shall!” Fell Flight proclaimed, flashing her pointed thestral teeth. “I want another Wind Knight scalp before I fall!”
“So do I! But even if not, at least we may perish knowing we had a noble end,” Osprey said solemnly. “We did our duty and did Equestria proud. Even if our own side does not know of our stand this day, ‘tis certain the gryphons will never forget!” She held up her tribune shoulder insignia trophy in reminder.
She received but some weak cheers for that—we were all exhausted from a day of constant fighting and little sleep. “May it be enough,” I told them all, then turned to Swift Strike, whose stature was small but whose heart and combat capability were completely outsized. “Any regrets, Sky Sergeant?”
He thought about that, then chuckled. “Just one, methinks. I would have liked to visit my favorite pub in Trottingham one last time,” he told me with a wistful sigh. “‘Tis run by my aunt, and methinks they had the best chips and ale in the province. I made it a point to try and visit it—and her—before every operation, assuming it might be my last time seeing them. Because for all the missions into gryphon territory we took, ‘tis certain you never knew when it would be.”
“Sounds rather fatalistic, Sky Sergeant,” Stormrunner noted. He’d actually come through the supercell fight better than me, picking up only a few bruises and armor divots whilst I was dealing with a painful if shallow bolt wound in my hip as well as a collection of scrapes and steel claw slashes on my forelegs, ones that had found or forced a couple gaps in my armor.
“’Tis the way of the Lances,” he replied succinctly. “We fully expect to die in the course of duty one day, and we expect most of Equestria to never know of our deeds or ends. When we fall in battle, our deaths are typically recorded as training accidents or illness, and only months after the fact.”
“Really? Then do not even the Lances themselves know?” I had to ask.
He hesitated for a few moments before answering. “We have a monument dedicated to our dead upon which our names and service records are inscribed in code,” he finally admitted. “I cannot say where it is.”
“Cannot or will not?” Osprey challenged.
“Whichever you like, Flight Sergeant.” He raised an eyeridge at her, causing some more chuckles. “Tell me, have you any regrets or family of your own?” he then asked her.
Osprey only shook her head, though I thought I might have caught a glimmer of anger in her gaze. “Nopony worth remembering, no. As far as I’m concerned, my only family is Omega and the Corps. Which means I get to die with them right here.”
“Oh, really? No stallion in your stable, then?” Fell Flight asked with a smirk, not above tweaking her even then.
Osprey looked annoyed at the question. “No.”
“And why not? Perchance because your Corps career meant you couldn’t have one? Or perchance because your flank was too thin?” Fell Flight teased with a lopsided grin in continuation of the back-and-forth banter and insults they had constantly indulged in.
In response, Osprey gave her a level look. “Perchance because I prefer mares, Master Sergeant,” she informed her blandly, and then punctuated her statement by giving Fell Flight a lascivious look and wink, causing the latter to flush whilst the rest of us began to laugh.
Seeing her longtime rival’s reaction, Osprey’s eyes gained a sultry gleam as she went on. “And actually, methinks I do have one regret, Fell Flight—that I was not able to share my proclivities... with you!” As she spoke, she gave Fell Flight a slow, languid lick of her tongue, causing her blush to deepen as the rest of us roared in further laughter, doubly so when Fell Flight’s wings twitched, threatening to go erect!
It felt good to know we could find reasons to laugh, even facing our end as we were. But Osprey wasn’t done yet. “So, aside from not getting to bed Fell Flight, my only real regret is I cannot slay any more gryphons past this morning—no offense, Gavian,” she quickly told my son, who was sitting at my side and drinking from a bowl.
“None taken,” he answered dully, picking at some discarded gryphon rations that appeared to be some form of dried meat he’d shared with Fell Flight. “After all we did this day, methinks you have every right to hate us.” His shoulders slumped as he spoke.
The gathering fell silent at his words, and I could only put my hoof over his talons to hear them. “We don’t hate you, Gavian. Methinks you are the perfect example of what gryphons could be—honorable friends and warriors who are as skilled with a pen as a sword.”
“Thank you, Mother.” He bared his throat and then nuzzled me with his beak, to which I hugged his head. “In truth, I do have my own regret this night—that I never finished the picture of you, me, Grandmother and Grandfather,” he told me, referring to the one he’d sketched of us the night I’d officially adopted him in the presence of my parents, intending to wait for a second visit to do the actual painting. “I put the preliminary sketch in the chest and left instructions for its finishing. ‘Tis my hope some future artist will do what I could not,” he told me and then looked away; tears visibly welling in his eyes again.
He took a single, shuddering breath before going on. “What I do not regret is all that happened to me in the past year. For as awful as it was at times, it led me here... to all of you! Let me know friendship and family for the first time, no matter how brief it was. Let me become the warrior I always dreamt. And for it? I love you all.” He sniffled. “And ‘twill be my greatest honor to die here with all of you.”
“Ars Longa, Vita Brevis.” Swift Strike recited in Aeric whilst putting a hoof on Gavian’s chest.
Whatever he said, Gavian looked up and smiled. “Vivamus, Moriendum Est,” he rejoined in the same tongue.
“Omnes Una Manet Nox. Permitte Divis Cetera,” Fell Flight added, causing the other two to chuckle and nod whilst leaving the rest of us no idea what was being said.
“Nil Desperandum. Carpe Diem,” Stormrunner finished, but that phrase I knew by then. “And we did.”
Mugs and a single bowl were raised in toast. “Any final thoughts for you, Master Sergeant? Methinks in all the time you’ve been here, you’ve said precious little about your herd or home life.” I asked Stormunner.
He smiled somewhat sadly, making me immediately wonder if asking the question had been a mistake. “’Tis because they are nonexistent, Commander. I am estranged from both. My mares divorced me before my foals were grown, claiming that by being in the Celestial Guard, I was ‘more married to Celestia than to them’.” He sighed and shook his head.
“Though they exaggerate, methinks ‘tis not without some truth. I became wedded to my career more than they. I neglected them without truly realizing it, until ‘twas too late. They ‘jumped clouds’, as it were, when they found another stallion who was willing to give them the time and attention I had not. They then moved back to Cloudsdale, taking my son and daughters with them. If I have any regret, ‘tis that I did not spend more time with them. And methinks I failed at being a herd stallion so badly that I have not attempted to form another herd since.” He turned downcast.
Methinks I was definitely regretting the question by then. “Well, I think you’re a fine stallion, Master Sergeant.” I favored him with a smile. “Under different circumstances and given a few more years, methinks I might well have contemplated herding with you myself!” I told him with a smile, and to my surprise, I meant it—he was very much my equal, both in terms of rank and combat ability, being the only soldier this side of Swift Strike who could at least occasionally best me in aerial duels. “If nothing else, know that I am glad to have served with you. Just having you around made me a better warrior.”
“The feeling is mutual, Commander.” He gave me a grateful smile. “How about you, First Sergeant? Methinks you seem rather sanguine about all this,” he posed the question to Still Way next.
“Because death ‘tis not to be feared,” he answered, his horn glow weak as he levitated his drink. “’Tis simply a passage all must endure one day. What matters is not that we die. ‘Tis that we lived and bequeath a legacy, whether ‘tis in the losses we inflicted today or in the love and knowledge we leave behind. With regards to the latter, mine is in my foals and my magical arts, which I have already passed in full to Vielle and Harpsichord, my eldest son and daughter. So I die knowing it—and they—will survive this night.”
“Magical Arts? The ‘Still Way Technique’ is it to be, then?” Fell Flight asked slightly derisively, to which Still Way closed his eyes and smiled.
Fell Flight could only sigh and rub her slitted eyes with a hoof. “So be it. Though I may not always show it, methinks I admire your accomplishments immensely, First Sergeant, both here and throughout your life. ‘Tis certain we could not have held the cavern or pulled off the spoiling attack without you,” she admitted with a nod at the two downed gryphon mages, whose corpses had been dragged into a line with the rest and left for the gryphons to dispose of as they saw fit.
I’d heard they burned their dead, not unlike pegasi did, but their reasons were completely different—whilst we cremated our fallen so their ashes could be released to the winds that pegasi loved and wielded, they did so to prevent their corpses from being possessed and reanimated by an ancient enemy called the Cloven, who had nearly annihilated them many centuries past.
But such idle musings were lost as my second went on. “In truth, methinks I envy you, Still Way. For I leave no legacy behind but a bereft family and coltfriend who ‘tis certain shall never know my fate. Assuming they still live after the attacks on Cloudsdale and Baltimare, that is.” She became downcast.
“Tis not true, Master Sergeant,” he rejoined. “I know your story. You touched and saved many lives during your Corps Career. Ask the families you saved from the Indala raider group if they are glad for your actions. Ask your own family and coltfriend if they are glad for your existence,” he reminded her, to which she could only give him a grateful smile. “How about you, Blindside?”
“M-me?” she answered slightly shakily. Blindside was wounded badly from the multiple sword strikes she’d taken, and even with her senses restored would not be much good in our final fight. She’d placed her eyepatch with a note to her mother in the chest, causing me and many others to start to see her without it and her milky orb of a nonworking eye beneath. Nevertheless, she hobbled to my side and swore to fall with me along with Gavian, though she said very little this night, perchance still feeling the aftereffects of her wounds and the fear she felt.
Nevertheless, she answered here. “Well…” she gave me a furtive look that told me what she was thinking, but I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t say it out loud in front of everypony, not even facing death as we were. She’d already made her declaration of love to me and that was enough for her; she was not the kind of pony who needed it publicly known. “I regret not being able to join the Lances.”
“The Lances?” Everypony chorused in surprise except for me and Swift Strike, who smiled.
Blindside nodded somewhat jerkily. “They recruited me. I’d received my orders not two days ago and ‘twas going to start training in October at Coltonado,” she told us, to confirming nods from myself and Swift Strike.
“And I was going to start training you personally, even before that,” Swift Strike noted idly. “You can thank me for the offer, Sergeant. ‘Twas on my recommendation you were recruited.”
“Thank you, Sky Sergeant. But after this last battle… methinks I do not deserve it.” She shivered again, pulling her blanket tighter around her. She’d been wearing one ever since being patched up after the battle, though ‘twas unclear to me whether it was more for her wounds and blood loss than the lingering fear she felt from the storm. “I fell to pieces out there and nearly lost my entire platoon.”
“You were suddenly and unexpectedly stripped of your senses, Sergeant. ‘Tis a perfectly understandable reaction. And ‘tis something we would have certainly worked with you to address,” Swift Strike said sympathetically, putting a hoof on her leg. “In the time I was here, I evaluated you not just for your skill in battle, but your strength of spirit, and found it not at all wanting for the disability you overcame.”
“To say nothing of not tearing your sire limb from limb when you ran into him at the Summer Sun Celebration Military Ball,” I couldn’t help but add. “‘Tis unlikely I could have restrained myself in your place.”
“The ball?” everypony echoed again as Blindside’s eyes—both of them, as she was no longer wearing her eyepatch—narrowed in anger.
“Indeed. Your encounter there was observed by Silent Night. It detracted nothing from your attractiveness to the Lances in her eyes,” Swift Strike noted after a brief explanation of the events. “We look not just for promising young warriors, but disciplined ones who can keep their calm and their wits about them, especially in stressful situations. And methinks there are few things more stressful than running into your own estranged sire for the first time since he abandoned you at birth for your supposed disability.”
“Silent Night?” Osprey repeated, having recognized the name of my adoptive mother from her earlier visit to Epsilon following the ball. Everypony glanced back and forth to each other, reaching the same conclusion at once. “So your mother was…”
“A Lance. Yes,” I confirmed, wondering what she would be doing now in the advent of war. “If you wish to know why I returned from leave so battered some months back, ‘twas because she tested me and for all my speed and skill, still rather soundly beat me.” I rubbed my eyes with a hoof at the memory. She had taken me out into a meadow for some full-contact sparring following the pair of us seeing Wind Whistler off to basic, leaving us both needing to burn off some tension. I had thought to take it easy on her, only to be very quickly disabused of the notion. “If I have any regrets now, ‘tis that I cannot see her again. Cannot partake in her cooking or test myself against her again.” I shook my head, wondering how much time we had left for such idle chit-chat, given the gryphons were almost certain to strike before dawn, now less than twenty minutes away.
But methinks every moment we had left then ‘twas a gift, and thus to be savored, milked for everything ‘twas worth. “And I wish I could see my mother again,” Blindside agreed. “Last she wrote, she was courting a new stallion and wanted me to meet him. I was planning to take a week’s leave to see her before starting at Coltanado, but now…” Tears ran down her cheeks.
I was still contemplating a response to that when a new figure approached our circle out of the darkness, one that caused all present to not only fall silent, but stand in deep respect.
“Sky Sentry,” I quickly greeted him. “Are you well?”
“No,” he said in a slightly shaky voice. “But methinks I do not wish to be alone any longer. Request permission to join you, Master Sergeant?” he asked politely, throwing me a quick salute.
“Of course,” I told him, returning the gesture and passing him a mug with our final drops of drink, offering a seat at my side. “By all means.”
“Thank you,” he acknowledged. “Methinks I am at least grateful I got to see you again one last time before our end.”
“And I am truly sorry for the circumstances, Sergeant. But that you survived them and made it all this way from Delta speaks greatly for you,” I offered, to which he gave a bitter laugh.
“Methinks you wouldst not say that if you knew the circumstances,” he replied. “Methinks my foal and his mother would be ashamed of me if they knew.” He sniffled again, nursing his few drops of drink.
“Your foal? You said you had a son, yes?” I reminded him, which was a given anyway—stallions couldn’t join the Armored Guard until and unless they’d sired a son. “If I may ask, what is his name?” Methinks I was trying to get him to focus on happier thoughts and memories.
He hesitated, but answered. “Apple Sprout,” he finally admitted, to the surprise of all. “He lives near Stalliongrad with his mother’s clan.”
“Apple Sprout?” I repeated the words, quickly reaching the only conclusion possible for such an un-pegasus name, one that methinks made much clear. “Then he and his mother are…?”
“Earth ponies,” he confirmed to the surprise of all, squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a moment. “’Tis why I could not stay with him—her mother’s clan would not have me. They promised to disown Applebee—his mother—if she herded with me, and though she was willing, I could not support them as the mere weather worker I was.
“So I thought that by joining the Guard, I could gain stature in their eyes. That perchance then they would accept me. Or failing that, I could use my new prestige to establish a herd elsewhere and then invite her to join me.” His hooves shook as he remembered.
He sighed before continuing. “‘Twas a foalish sentiment that should not have availed me, and by rights, I should have washed out of Guardspony basic within a week. But then something happened. Something that changed everything.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“You did, Master Sergeant.” He raised his haunted eyes to mine. “The very first day of training, you challenged me. Made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he told me with the ghost of a smile, causing me to flush at the memory of the half-jested promise I’d made to him, offering him the chance to… have me if he completed basic and graduated a Corporal. “In doing so, you gave me a reason to not just persevere, but excel. Methinks I wanted you—not just for a cheap fling, but, well... as a future herdmate and a second mother to my foal.” He slumped at the admission.
I stayed silent—for what could I say to that?—waiting for him to continue, allowing him to take another sip of his drink. “But then something else happened. As I went along, I realized I had an actual talent for the work. That much to my surprise, I was good at combat and enjoyed it. That I wanted to get stronger and swifter and better so that I might be your equal. So that then, you might wish to be with me in turn.”
His few drops of drink exhausted, we passed him some water instead, which he gulped at hard as he continued to relate his tale.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I know how little you must think of me now. But the truth is… basic training ‘twas but a game to me and the Guard itself but a means to an end. Despite the Sergeant Major’s admonitions, I never gave any thought to what we were actually training for! I never dreamt any of this could actually happen! And when it did…” He buried his face in his hoof and had to stifle sobs again. “I fought, Master Sergeant, I really did! I tried to defend the base! I even took over when the commander and her second were killed!
“But no matter what I did, ‘twasn’t enough! No matter how many I killed, they just kept coming! Mages and Knights behind the Talons that I couldn’t hold off!” His mug shook violently in his hoof whilst we listened silently, aghast.
It was several seconds before he could continue. “Knowing the base was lost, I tried to lead the survivors here by making a dash through the inner river gorge, keeping to the afternoon shadows. But they spotted us and none survived! All fell en route to Epsilon until only I was left!” he slammed his hooves down hard before he finally raised his haunted eyes to all of us and said his final statement. “Don’t you all understand? I’m a failure as a father and a soldier! I lost the outpost and led my troops to their deaths!” he pronounced as he broke down sobbing again.
“No, Sergeant,” Still Way spoke up before I could, once his cries has subsided. “You did not fail at either. In both instances, you were presented with an impossible situation and did what you could with it. You tried to provide for your mare and foal. You tried to defend your base and when the gryphon numbers proved too great, you tried to lead your remaining forces to safety.
“Far from leading them to their deaths, you offered your soldiers a fighting chance for life—the only realistic chance they had. Methinks you did everything you could and none here could have performed any better in your place. ‘Tis not your fault what happened. ‘Tis nopony’s fault but the gryphons,” the First Sergeant said solemnly. “And as for your reasons for joining the Guard being poor ones? Mayhap ‘twould interest you to know why I joined.”
“And why was that?” Fell Flight asked, her voice subdued.
“To showcase my magical arts and, in my youthful naivety, try to convince the Guard to follow a more peaceful path.” He chuckled to himself. “In truth, I was a pacifist. And worse, I thought I could convince others to be from inside the military. I endured training even as I vowed to eventually reform it. I regret my first assignment did disabuse me of that notion rather quickly as I discovered that the Harpies were not impressed by my peaceful pretensions. Methinks all my mistaken beliefs died a horrible death when I was forced to kill a group of them to stop them from slaughtering a family.”
For one of the few times I had known him, there was genuine pain in the First Sergeant’s eyes. “’Twas quite a shock, as you might guess. ‘Twas only then I realized my entire worldview was false, and that to be peaceful did not mean unwilling to act. That pacifism only worked if all subscribed to it, else ‘twas certain to only be taken as weakness—which only invited more conflict, not less. That a desire for peace meant nothing unless backed by the will and ability to fight. That was when me and my arts finally began to mature, and my path became the correct one,” he told us all, then turned to me. “And what about you, ma’am?”
“I joined the Guard for personal glory,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “And like the First Sergeant, I was disabused of the notion rather rudely, first by my head trainer, Sergeant Major Windshear, and later by the gryphons.” I shivered at the memory of how badly I’d reacted to my first real engagement and kill; an attack in which I’d lost sixteen soldiers to a raider ruse. But not all the outcomes had been bad; Gavian had been captured in that attack, too small and malnourished to have slain anyone and duped into joining the raider group anyway. “Like Still Way, I learned the hard way the utter folly of my initial thinking. But I am grateful now, for ‘tis what set me on the flight to become the warrior and leader I am. So tell me, then… what about the rest of you? Why did you join the military?” I posed the question to them all.
“I joined the Corps to escape my overbearing mother, enlisting the moment I turned nineteen,” Osprey said succinctly. “And ‘tis certain I have never looked back.”
“I joined to be able to fight and follow in my mentor’s hoofsteps, who was a retired Corps soldier,” Fell Flight said next. “I needed outlets for my thestral hunting instincts, and the Corps was the obvious answer. Doubly so as I wished to honor the one who trained and taught me when nopony else would. What about you, Sergeant?” She turned to Blindside next.
“Me? I joined to prove I wasn’t a cripple,” she explained with her first grin all night. “Methinks serving Equestria was secondary, though ‘twould be a lie to say I did not wish to honor the same mentor as you. And you, Sky Sergeant?” she asked Swift Strike, who was the only one who hadn’t offered up their story.
“To become something more than the skinny and easily bullied weakling I was,” he answered without a hint of irony, then grinned at the looks everypony gave him. “I wasn’t always an assassin, you know.”
“Perchance not,” Still Way agreed, a ghost of a smile on his face as he looked to Sky Sentry once more. “But the point, Sergeant, is that we all had different paths in coming here, and even motives that might have been considered shallow or selfish,” he told his fellow stallion. “In truth, few of us were joining to serve princess and province. But you? Your motivation strikes me as the least selfish of all. You joined the Guard in an attempt to give your foal a better life and a herd that would accept both him and his mother. Speaking for myself, I find that quite noble. Perchance you were a bit naive, but ’tis certain no more than I was!”
“Or me,” I went downcast, wishing that I could go back in time to slap myself for my own ignorance and arrogance.
Sky Sentry considered that, then nodded. “Thank you, both,” he told us. “‘Tis appreciated. Still, methinks I escaped the destruction of one outpost only to die at another. And I wish very much that I’d been able to see Applebee and Apple Sprout again…”
Before any reply could be offered, a series of muffled sounds were heard outside the doors, announcing the return of the gryphons; scraping and clawing noises as they readied to storm the cavern—or perchance just bring it down on our heads to be done with us.
All conversation instantly stopped and eyes turned on me as I took flight and spoke into my blue gem for what I was certain would be the last time. “Soldiers of the Corps! ‘Tis time. Our end is nigh, and I have no more orders to give save these—fight hard and fight well! Make sure the gryphons will never forget this night... or the name of Outpost Epsilon!”
A final cheer went up from my doomed troops as we heard the booms of magus lightning, and dust began to fall from the ceiling from their impacts against the roof of the cavern—they clearly were indeed trying to cave it in on us, but even with diamond dog support ‘twas unlikely at best they could get the whole ceiling to collapse at once.
The entire battalion then came to attention and gave me their most crisp and rigid salutes; even the maintenance crew offered their respects with their best impressions of one.
“‘Tis been an honor to serve with you, Commander,” Fell Flight spoke for all of them, struggling to keep the catch from her voice.
“The honor was mine, Master Sergeant,” I told her, just as rigidly returning the salute as the cavern shook again. “See you in the Summerlands.”
If I may say, Captain, adding this section ‘twas an excellent suggestion. Methinks I must give my regards to the Ambassador and Marquess before I leave.
‘Tis now lunchtime, and the Captain is currently seeing her father along with her honored guests. As I await my turn, I believe I will pick up the quill myself again to pen a short section, one that will set the final battle scene.
—Commodore Shady
Gryphon Territory
12 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0540 hours
“Word from the gryphon scrying networks, Captain—the final attack on Epsilon is going in.” Ensign Kusema reported from her station, a mug of steaming tea at her side. I’d ordered it from the galley for the entire bridge crew to try to keep us awake and alert this late into the night. “They say that the remnants of the Corps battalion have holed up inside their empty storm cloud vault.”
“I see. Steady as she goes, Mister Sora. And keep us in the clouds,” I directed. Perchance as a consequence of the storm, there was a low cloud bank left in the area; an unusually thick fog and mist that was masking our approach. We’d actually spotted a few gryphon patrols by then, but hidden in the clouds as we were and not looking for any intruders on the gryphon side of the border, they had failed to notice us. I then clicked another gem button on my console. “Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight!” I called to our Pegasus air wing commander. “Are your instructions for the battle clear?”
“Crystal clear, ma’am,” she replied promptly. “All my squadrons have been briefed on their roles and objectives. We’re ready to launch on your orders!”
“Good. Commander?” I turned to my second next, who had taken about forty minutes before returning after his confrontation with me, but who now appeared to be in a much better state of mind; calm and in control. “I need to command the group, and that means you need to command the ship. The Loyalty is yours, Mister Tailwind,” I announced, stepping away from the Captain’s chair.
“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He acknowledged with a salute. “I assume the watch. Mister Azimuth? What is our current distance to Epsilon?”
“Twelve miles, sir,” he replied after a short pause, measuring a distance on the chart. We were flying blind on our final approach, as the ground and immediate surroundings were masked by leftover mists, so the Lieutenant was navigating by what mariners call dead reckoning, attempting to calculate our position via forward speed and heading from our last known location.
“Then order the group to begin descent and go to flank speed,” I directed Ensign Kusema. “And order their commanders to tune to my personal command crystals. I will be directing our forces from the forward deck,” I announced, heading towards the lower observation deck where I could observe the overall battle, a collection of communication crystals attached to my belt and several heavily armed naval guards, including the Mare-at-Arms herself, at my side.
“Aye-aye, ma’am. Mister Sora, begin descent towards Epsilon and go to flank speed! Fifteen degrees down angle on the planes.”
“Fifteen degrees down and go to flank speed, aye.” He moved a pair of levers forward and for a moment, my hooves felt lighter under my body as the ship began to drop. “Guess this is it…” I heard him mutter under his breath, the attention of all suddenly on the forward windows that still showed only fog. “By the Sun and Moon, we’re really doing this…”
“Orders acknowledged, ma’am. The Duty and Vigil report descent commencing,” Kusema relayed.
“Then battle is upon us,” I said as I stepped out onto the forward deck and donned a pair of borrowed flight goggles, the wind blasting in my face.
And may Luna be with us… I silently prayed as the sun peeked over the horizon behind us. It rose just as we left the cover of the clouds to descend towards the newly-visible ruins of Epsilon base, a fresh cohort of gryphons circling their final redoubt like vultures.
“But one night waits for all and the road of death is to be tread only once.” —Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace)
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I loved this somber chapter. The battles are epic and exciting, but every story has rising and falling action to give emphasis to both. This break was welcome, and I'd say needed.
I gotta ask, how do you decide what music goes with what section? I find they all fit extremely well.
WHAT????
You! Story! Now!
Shouldn't this be hooves?
several more soldiers succumbed to their wounds.
Thought they were on military time. Shouldn't this be 0500?
I be honest, I came into this hoping for blood and was surprisingly appeased by a relatively lighter though still grim view of characters being honest with themselves and expressing more of their lives away from the battlefield. I myself have questioned my own motives for doing what I do, though it is not nearly so dramatic and grueling a tale and seeing them talk about their past niaveity hit me on a more personal level than expected, yet with an author as great as you, I should have expected it regardless.
I've been waiting to see the naval ships in action for quite some time. I've always been a sucker for great engines of war smashing into the fray and scattering armies only for them to unite and rise to the challenge whether they win or not. This part of the battle has been something I've hyped myself up for and you've carefully set each piece to truly deliver a harrowing tale of bravery and sacrifice.
9524676
Actually, arms are a valid term for animal forelegs. So I’m keeping that. Made the rest of the noted corrections, though. Thanks for them.
This was a good chapter but it didn't show up in my read later list which said I had no unread chapters. I agree for your reasons to make this a seperate chapter and I'm looking forward to the battle in the next chapter. This chapter also shows us that Still Way is the ancestor of Lyra Heartstrings probably through Harpischord. Given that Lyra knew the art Still Way in the story that invented it this is not hugeley surprising.
I'm going to take this quiet moment to state calmly that I FUCKING KNEW IT!!
HA! Foolish superstition! As if the dead could really rise back to lif- Whoa! Is it just me or has the temperature gone ice-cold?
Knowing Luna, she's probably watching the entire scene from the Moon, all the while munching popcorns.
9524436
Thank you for saying so!
The break was honestly needed by the author, too. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again--heavy combat chapters are stressful to write, both for the amount of thought that has to go into them and how much time I end up spending on making the graphics.
Thanks again!
Honestly? I know in my head what mood I want to convey and then I just go hunting for something appropriate on YouTube. This time, I wanted somber marital songs except for the final section with the Loyalty, which I wanted something a bit more anticipatory. I’m subscribed to a couple epic music channels that are usually good for this sort of thing. Other times, I go with the suggestions of my prereading crew, like the heavy metal songs for the superstorm battle. I’m perfectly willing to accept suggestions from readers, too!
9524591
You’ll get it, but you’re going to have to be a bit patient, sorry.
On the other hand, if you want to get to know the character Kamilya Ampok is based on, you can check out my anthro novel, in which she’s the protagonist.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LDIV8QI
9524707
Appreciated. Sorry for the lack of fighting, but the writer needed a break too, and it just didn’t feel right to jump from this right into battle in the same chapter. I’m glad to know it did this for you. I strive to make readers feel and think, and your reaction tells me it did!
Here’s hoping I can deliver! Be assured, I won’t be releasing it until I’m satisfied it’s ready and can deliver all that, and so are my prereaders.
9525712
It didn’t? Odd.
I’m glad to hear it. Be looking for it in a couple weeks.
Glad you spotted that. It’s a bit of direct homage to Xenophilia (which two of my prereaders detest), which heavily influenced my works and the Gentlemanverse I write in. This is AU to Xenoverse; the story takes place in both in the Phoenixverse (as I call it) and the Gentlemanverse, if in slightly different contexts.
9526012
I guess I did telegraph that a bit.
Actually, it was a bit of a gift to prereaders, who said they really liked the idea of the ship between two of the ‘most based’ characters I’d created.
Oh, that’s just Trixie losing control of her ice powers again.
That, or watching in disgust and muttering to herself how if she was down there, she would have stomped the gryphons flat decades earlier.
And look where you are Firefly...look where you are now
.
Ah, I see...overprotective mother...I bet a lot can relate
.
Wanting to follow the footsteps of your teacher...another thing that many can relate to
.
Even crippled ponies can make a difference
!
The past is in the past now Firefly...all you can do now is look ahead
.
Reign down the fury of the Equines of Equestria on the Raptors of Griffonstone
!!!
For once you tread that road, there is no other than the one that leads to the end of said road
.
9566400
Sir, I admire your enthusiasm!
A mighty group of heros. With some to grace Equestria with a continued bloodline here or there.
Sooo... No orgy to celebrate the moment?
11243021
Not that kind of story, sorry!
There was a time I considered making it that way in an effort to attract more readers to what was then a foundering Before the Storm, but in the end, I was talked out of it and I’m glad I didn’t. Unlike Feathered Hearts, it just wouldn’t have worked like that. This is what it is—a straight war story, and a very powerful one at that.
You could say that.
You’d find out who their modern descendants actually are over in The Lawyer and The Unicorn if you ever want to read that.
I still think it's brilliant how you add in more light hearted chapters like this. It's something I'm starting to incorporate in my own projects to a point ^.^
I know some of them survive but this is still the saddest thing I've read in ages ;-; The way they're all talking about death coming for them, standing by one another in what the believe to be their final moments.
Heartbreaking and heartwarming. You've warmed my heart after shattering it like glass
11383002
I’m way overdue to answer these. So let’s get started.
Glad to be of service!
It wouldn’t be a story involving ponies if it didn’t involve friendship to the very end.
Thanks. And sorry for continually doing that to you.
I try very hard to balance my stories with good and bad. I don’t like wall-to-wall sorrow or grimdark any more than you, but even in real life, wars often involve enormous emotional swings as you win and lose, suffer and soar, sometimes within minutes of each other.