Rally and Recover: 8 - Typhoon Warning
Greetings to all readers yet again. I wish it known before we begin that we dedicate this latest chapter to a pony who has been barely heard from to this point in either of the two volumes, but whose contributions to the war effort were oft-critical.
‘Tis certain he would have considered the events described in this chapter a simple matter of honor and duty, and not anything worthy of remembrance. I must beg to differ. For without his timely arrival, so much would have ended differently, and ‘tis certain in my mind that the Bolt Knights would never have come to be.
There was some debate on the contents of this next chapter, as both my son, my father, and myself all wished to contribute. Swift Strike was offered the pen as well, but he declined, saying he was simply not left aware enough of these events to offer much. Perchance he also does not wish to relive memories of one of his few failures, though ‘tis certain none would hold him responsible for what nearly happened that night.
So Father will open, followed by Gavian, and finally myself. Another entry from Layan Kaval will be included before my own passage, as my old friend and foe has a desire to show more of what was happening behind the Gryphon battle lines; offering his insights into the occasionally difficult strategic dilemmas the Empire and Prelate faced.
I admit I was surprised that Gavian wished to be heard, given what happened. But he insists, saying that he does not shy away from fearful or painful memories, and he wants readers to know how he perceived the events to follow.
—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot
Thank you, my daughter. In truth, ‘twas no less fearful or painful a series of events for me, but like my grandson, I believe that makes it all the more necessary to tell the tale.
Greetings again to all readers, both military and civilian, pony and gryphon. ‘Tis Admiral Tailwind again, and my progress, though agonizingly slow, is at least apparent. I have gained another inch of mobility in my rebuilt wing whilst the healers, both Equestrian and gryphon, attempt to induce my long-neglected and atrophied flight muscles to rediscover their old purpose.
There is no magic that ultimately can help that along; ‘tis simply a matter of finding and sparking old connections in hopes that they can yet work again. But that story remains to be finished, just as this one remains to be told. So I will not dwell on my wing or continuing weakness, but rather, distract myself from them by offering up the next perspective in this tale.
—Admiral Tailwind
Commanding Admiral, Royal Navy
Naval Base Polaris
Canterlot
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
0050 hours
‘Twas with no little relief that the thestral General was… relieved of his command and his subordinate took over his division, ordering her troops to stand down and escort us the rest of the way to Cloudsdale. Though ‘twould also be a lie to say such an extreme action caused no consternation among us, once the initial relief over not being forced into a fight with the bat-ponies had passed.
Many of our mares were in shock that a stallion was so swiftly slain regardless of the circumstances, but ‘twas later explained to us by Aegir Ale herself that ‘twas simply their way. Or more correctly, ‘twas Luna’s way in ages past that the penalty for treason was instant death, and thus, they adhered to her old general orders for Naval conduct that required subordinates to slay their superiors should they engage in treachery, even now.
“The general lied about and hid his orders, substituting his judgment for that of the Lunar Council to bring about war with Equestria. Once that deception was revealed, she acted appropriately,” the Colonel later stated when I asked her about it. “Do not judge us by your own standards, Commander. For we have lived by Luna’s for over three hundred years. Being a stallion does not spare a Nightborne from such penalties, nor should it, else one such as Muscadine could carve out their own private army and fiefdom within our borders.”
I did not press the matter further, and ‘twas difficult to shed tears for the Major General anyway. ‘Tis no lie that ‘twas touch and go on the approach to Cloudsdale, and to Colonel Aegir Ale must go the credit for getting us through and revealing the General’s duplicity. Though the effort took so much out of her emotionally she had to be helped to sickbay afterwards; ‘twould be hours before she was ready to resume her duties and meet her new commander.
‘Twas just as well, as it turned out. The Captain requested the opportunity to greet the pegasi of Cloudsdale, and ‘twas granted promptly as it should always have been. We would learn the full extent of Muscadine’s machinations later, but for now, ‘twas time to make contact with our brethren and find out just what state they were in.
* * * * *
With a Corps escort guiding us, docking at the Central District airship anchorage outside of City Hall took about ten minutes.
Many pegasus crew members were anxious to leave and find their families after the raid the city had suffered, but they were told to wait—that ‘twas night and we had to remain on guard against possible attacks, even if the thestrals seemed no longer a threat. The bat-ponies wisely kept their distance after the near-battle, though they did deliver First Sergeant Still Way to us, who seemed uncharacteristically embarrassed as he returned in the lifeboat with an entire Nightborne squad escorting him.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. ‘Twould seem they found me out far too quickly,” he apologized to the Captain as he stepped off the lifeboat onto the deck. “Even if I know not yet how my magic failed?” He glanced back at his bat-pony escort, who visibly blushed, even in the low light.
They looked at each other, and then at their battalion commander stallion, who bore the insignia of a major and smirked. “Be assured your mimicry spell was perfect, Guardspony—too perfect. We knew something was wrong when we kept sensing the... energies of a rutting unicorn stallion from your ship at the rate of once a minute,” he informed the First Sergeant in front of the ship’s command group, causing a series of blinks and blushes, whilst Fell Flight broke out into a huge grin.
“Either he was the most virile stallion alive, or some chicanery was at play. With apologies to said stallion, we decided ‘twas most likely the latter,” his mare second added with a wink. “We sent a patrol out for a look, and we found him. That’s when we sounded the alarm.”
“I see…” I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the normally serene and unflappable Celestial Guardspony blush whilst Fell Flight began to giggle. “Then ‘twould seem I recorded something I did not mean to...”
“You’re never going to let him live this down, are you?” Firefly asked her snickering second after the bat-ponies had departed.
“Not in a million years, ma’am!” Fell Flight confirmed mirthfully as she returned inside and the loading ramps were lowered to the cloud base.
Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0050 hours
A minute later, the ramps had touched down in the Courtyard of Cloudsdale City Hall, which looked far grander than a simple local governmental office would normally be for a surface city.
‘Twas a relic of a time when Cloudsdale was an independent nation and foreign dignitaries were received there. I had not visited the city much since my injury, but the grandeur of the place had stuck with me; a columnar remnant of the pegasi nation’s more Imperial times. Arriving as late as we had, there were few present except military officials and a few civilians, who had gathered at the base of the ramp to receive us; the escorting Corps pegasi had been sent away to patrol the perimeter of the city.
There were a few low firegem lights in the courtyard, but nothing too bright as the city remained on blackout to keep the gryphons from finding it. Once Still Way had cast a cloudwalking spell on Captain Shady, she and Firefly descended, with their respective seconds—Fell Flight and myself—left aboard as we listened in through their crystal communications.
Gavian was up as well at that hour, standing with me on the upper observation deck overlooking the Courtyard, which finally afforded us some chance to catch up. Despite his desire to be at his adoptive mother’s side, it had been decided ‘twas best to keep him aboard the Loyalty for now, given gryphon faces were likely to be decidedly unwelcome in Cloudsdale following the Imperial attack. Swift Strike was also there in his guise of bodyguard, having insisted on assuming those duties back from the PSD mare as soon as possible.
Once our contingent arrived, a series of greetings and salutes were exchanged. “‘Tis good to see you, Captain. We were out of contact and weren’t sure Canterlot was aware of our situation. ‘Twould seem the General had not passed along our messages as he had promised,’’ Sergeant Major Rolling Thunder all but growled.
“Apparently not,” Captain Shady confirmed grimly. “We had no word at all. We were sent in blind to Cloudsdale’s suspected position to look for you, with orders to locate and then escort you out to a position near Windy City.”
“Windy City?” Rolling Thunder blinked as he exchanged a glance with what appeared to be a wingblade-armed civilian pegasus stallion with a grey coat and gold mane standing to his left. “Why?”
“I know not. But such are my orders, direct from the Princess herself. So the city must prepare to depart.”
“I see…” The Cloudsdale Governor, a older mare named High Pressure stated. “We will obey, but we cannot do so right away. ‘Twill take us eight hours to make ready and a full week to make that journey at our best speed.”
“You cannot leave immediately?” the Captain asked in concern.
“Not if we wish the city to maintain its mass,” the Governor replied. “Perchance you are unaware, Captain, but moving Cloudsdale or even changing its speed or direction is not a simple task. Methinks we had to sacrifice some of its outlying surface just to escape the gryphons and make it to the bat-pony lands.”
“And even within them, 'tis certain we are still vulnerable,” a male voice I assumed belonged to the unknown stallion replied. “The weather factory was destroyed and we lost most of our militia, as well as all the existing Corps contingent. We have but a few hundred trained defenders now supplemented by several thousand hastily organized but ill-trained civilians. They fought well against the gryphons. Very well. But they also suffered very heavily.” I heard a solemn note in his voice. “And far too many weather factory workers were slain.”
“I see…” the Captain’s voice turned solemn as well. “We can mourn your losses later, and I know my crew is anxious to see if their families are safe. But for now, we need to get the city itself to safety. I know not what the Princess has planned, but I was told she had some role in mind for Cloudsdale’s pegasi. So let us thank our hosts for their hospitality, and see to leaving under the cover of morning mists before a gryphon spy finds us.”
“Yes, methinks ‘twould be for the best,” the civilian stallion replied. “For given their Office of Owls, you never know when one might be—” he trailed off as he looked up towards the ship; ‘twas hard to tell but I thought he was looking directly at me.
‘Twas then Swift Strike swore violently and went for the blades on his weapons belt as the stallion launched himself right at Gavian, charging him without warning with pure murder in his eyes.
Thank you for relating your side of this tale up to this point, grandsire, and letting me save my own emotional energy for the critical scene.
‘Tis Gavian speaking again, writing this from my Headmaster’s office at the Celestial Art Academy. I chose this location for its privacy, and because I couldn’t be certain I wouldn’t break down completely in the presence of others for relating what was to come. What followed ‘twas a time of sheer terror for me, an attack with lethal intent that still gives me nightmares to this day.
I had been in battle twice already. I had fought and defeated Fortis Knights. And yet, they were nothing compared to the threat I now faced, belonging to a stallion I had only seen once before.
Some things haunt you forever. Some events you never shake. ‘Tis certain this is one of mine.
—Gavian Ravenoff
Headmaster
Celestial Art Academy
Canterlot
Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0055 hours
As the stallion named Thunderbolt charged me through the air—I recognized him from my previous visit to Cloudsdale a month earlier; he had been friendly enough and even spoken to me in Aeric briefly—methinks I did not immediately recognize the danger.
Swift Strike did, though. Methinks I had never heard him raise his voice let alone speak such a severe oath, but he immediately went for his weapons and darted out in front of me. “Gavian! Get below!” he shouted at me as both me and my grandsire looked on in bewilderment whilst he met the stallion head on and began exchanging a series of rapid-fire blows with him.
I had never known anypony who could match my mentor in terms of pure speed, but this stallion could and did, as Swift Strike lasted but six seconds against him before he was knocked aside hard into the hull of the ship. He hit with a sharp crack! and then slid down, landing limply on the cloud, his lost blades falling right through the cloud surface beside him.
Finally understanding my peril, I tried to obey my mentor’s orders as my grandsire interposed himself as a shield, saying something I couldn’t hear. I had nearly made it to the hatch before the wind suddenly came up and a horrific suction grabbed hold of me, dragging me back and then flinging me hard into the air within a miniature twister. I lost my bearings and by the time I had regained them, I found myself plummeting.
I was only just able to arrest my flight before another rush of wind slammed me into the cloud surface and held me there as I heard an animal growl behind me, shortly followed by mother’s voice.
“Stop this, Lieutenant! He is not a threat to you or anypony else!” she shouted as she planted herself in front of me with wingblades bared.
But Thunderbolt did not stop his advance, landing on the cloud before me with his own blades deployed. “He is a gryphon! And he… must… die!” he announced as he somehow gathered up a massive charge of electricity from inside himself, causing an intense crackling around him not unlike the airship’s dirigible defenses. I’d barely had time to register what he was doing and feel the static charge building in the air—I knew that pegasi could launch lightning bolts from clouds, but not from their hooves!—before a jagged bolt of pure death was fired at me at a speed far too fast for me to dodge.
Caught off-guard as I was, ‘twas certain I would have been slain right then and there had it not been for Mother. “NO!” she shouted in alarm as she interposed herself and then accomplished what she never had to that point by deflecting the massively powerful bolt, saving me from certain death. But even then, there was only so much she could take at once as the effort staggered her, and Thunderbolt’s follow-up strike floored her, sending her into a nearby cloud bank with residual sparks arcing over her.
“Mother!” I called to her as I drew my sword and reared up to stand over her, for the first time feeling a moment of very severe fear as I realized not just Thunderbolt’s intent, but his horrific level of power.
“Gavian… don’t! He won’t kill us but he’ll kill you! Fly! Get away!” a coughing Swift Strike called to me, just managing to pull one of his throwing blades and launch it at Thunderbolt, who simply intercepted it in midair and then threw it right back at him; it hit his head hilt-first and knocked him cold, causing him to slump to the cloudtop.
“Yes, by all means run, little gryphon,” Thunderbolt said in Aeric, his voice ice cold as he approached me with a lowered head. “Run like the coward and spy you are. Or stand and fight. Either way, ‘tis certain you won’t last, but methinks at least you can die with some shred of your worthless honor intact. Not that I care.” A crackling electrical current ran over his body as though to punctuate his words.
The implication that I had no honor or was otherwise too craven to fight finally steeled my spine. “I am no spy! And I am no coward!” I told him in Equish and brandished my blade, taking the fight to him directly, engaging a wingblade-armed opponent in mortal combat for only the second time in my life.
But to my horror, ‘twas all for naught. For despite all my acquired speed and skill, and for the Knights I’d already slain, he dodged me easily once, twice, and then with my third swing, he intercepted it with a wingblade and disarmed me of my Raven scimitar in an instant. His parry knocked it out of my grasp into the air, following it up with a slash that would have taken off my forearm had it connected, except—
“Enough!” Fell Flight intervened next, rushing out of the bridge and then diving off the observation deck, tackling him from behind. She grappled with him, trying to pin him with her weight and wings long enough to get him into a blood choke, using her own wind and flight magic to restrain his. “Get a hold of yourself, sir! He fought for us! I’m telling you, he’s our friend, not a foe! Now for me and for Blindside, please let him go!”
“No!” Thunderbolt shouted as he simply charged himself with enough electricity to send her reeling, then threw her off with ease before stunning her with a minor bolt. “You don’t know what you’re saying or what we’ve been through, Master Sergeant! But when you do, you’ll both thank me for this!” he promised in renewed fury, turning his murderous gaze back upon me. I flared my wings for flight, but he simply flapped his wings to call up another gale that prevented me from taking off, pinning me in place as he approached me, his teeth and wingblades bared.
“So you fought for us, did you, my little chickenhawk? I know not what you were playing at, but I suppose you earn some honor for it. So be it! Then I’ll spare you the pain of my blades and slay you with a bolt instead!” He stopped his advance thirty feet from me and began to charge up a fresh lightning bolt; static crackling around his hoof.
Now trapped and staring my end in the face, I began to shake. For he had amply demonstrated there was nothing I nor anypony else could do against him, and there was nowhere I could flee. Cornered and disarmed, all my acquired combat abilities counted for nothing in that moment.
‘Twas certain I was as good as slain. I closed my eyes and cowered like I was the helpless and hungry cub I’d been but a year earlier before this demon of death in pony form, expecting him to strike me down and praying ‘twould be quick. And as I heard a static charge build again towards a bolt I knew ‘twas meant for me, I did not expect to survive the next few seconds.
But before his killing blow could be launched, there was an even more powerful hurricane blast of wind, this time striking from the side. ‘Twas so violent and unexpected it bowled a surprised Thunderbolt over despite his own innate control of the air, causing him to lose control in turn of the lightning bolt he’d been about to strike me down with.
Then the wind caught me as well, and I had to squeeze my eyes tightly shut again against the monstrous gale, my talons and hind claws digging into the cloud surface to not be swept away.
To my renewed horror, I felt them slipping for a moment, threatening to toss me into the air again before the tempest relented, and when my vision cleared, I saw a new figure in front of me. ‘Twas a tall and well-toned sea-green pegasus stallion with a cloud white military-cut mane, and an enormously powerful one to judge by not just his size but by the very gale he commanded; one that even kept Thunderbolt at bay.
Though bearing wingblades—which he had sheathed—he was clad not in armor but in what I recognized as a maroon Royal Guard day uniform, bearing a formal command sash and two prominent silver bars on both sides of his collar that I could just see as he was standing obliquely before me. He gave me a glance and nod that showed off his lurid series of facial scars—a product of being slashed by Harpy claws, I’d been told once before—before turning to face the felled Thunderbolt fully, giving me a perfect view of the large hurricane cutie mark on his flank.
I had only seen him once before, during a surprise visit he had paid to Epsilon over the summer but a month earlier. But ‘twas certain his appearance there had left quite the impression on me, as it had on all present, and thus I recognized him instantly.
“Captain Typhoon!” I called out in shock and desperate hope to the Captain of the Royal Guard. I recalled then he was not just a commander but a mighty warrior in his own right; a pony who had bested Mother with shocking ease the one time they had sparred, turning the air itself against her and even creating a cloud out of the thin desert air he was able to launch a lightning bolt from. But could even he stand against this monstrously powerful and murderous pegasus stallion, who had effortlessly felled both my mentor and my mother?
“Stay down, lad,” he called back without turning to me, watching as Thunderbolt began to pick himself up. “And keep behind me. On my honor as an officer and warrior, I swear before the Sun of Celestia that he will not harm you.”
Such was my second experience with Thunderbolt, and ‘tis one I still have nightmares over to this day, for how close to death I came at his hooves. ‘Twas a very hard thing for me to accept, coming so soon after my successful fights with Knights and Ravens, only to find that there was still somepony so far above me in terms of combat ability that I may as well have been a helpless cub again.
As I finish this entry, I find myself feeling unsettled, chills still coursing through me and my crest feathers standing on end, remembering both my fear and the one who made me feel that way. And yet, I do not hate him for what he nearly did. For methinks he was right about one thing—neither Fell Flight nor I had nary any idea what he had been through, or what it had done to him.
Nary any idea of what all Cloudsdale had been through, or what it had collectively done to them all.
—Gavian Ravenoff
I admit, my artist friend, that your latest entry is troubling to me.
‘Twould be a lie to say that I did not have to deal with my own nigh-invincible and nearly uncontrollable killing machine on our own side, as well you know. And yet, to read this now, Thunderbolt strikes me in some ways as the more dangerous of the two, even at this early stage of the war. For in his mind, he was not slaying for sport but serving his side by killing an enemy of Equestria, which Gavian was for simply being a gryphon in his eyes. And the eyes of far too many others, but Thunderbolt alone could act on it and go right through all his protectors to do so.
I cannot even begin to imagine the fear and terror you and your mother must have felt to see him coming; to know there was nothing you could do to stop him as neither he nor her future Bolt Knight comrades, who even then were more than a match for most of our forces, fell one by one before him.
But fate—and mayhap the foresight of Celestia herself—saved you this day. Thunderbolt bears the honor of being one of a very few to both survive engagement with me and even wound me, and in time, I would be proven correct when I initially noted he could become a rallying point and an important symbol of Equestrian resistance.
And yet, for all that, I now know the Prelate was correct to decline my offer to go after him. For I might have slain him, but ‘tis unlikely at best either I or the Raven team I was embedded with would have escaped afterwards, given thestral senses and unfamiliar weapons.
And ‘tis certain that would have had far-reaching consequences to both sides neither could have then foreseen.
—Layan Kaval
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot
Eagle Aerie Imperial Supply Base
Outside Cirrus Cassida
September 4th, 1139 AC
0057 hours
Methinks sleep was in short supply for both sides as the Prelate and I stayed up long into the night at his old office at Eagle Aerie, which we chose as the most centrally located point to coordinate the renewed offensive whilst his mobile headquarters was being reestablished following the Gamma raid. We did so along with the rest of his aides and the Primarch, reviewing battle reports and disseminating orders for the day to come.
‘Twas odd, but in many ways, the lead up to the fourth day of war was even more frantic than the first. For the latter, we had pre-made contingency plans to operate from; our commanders were simply breaking the seal on secret orders when an action code was sent along with the magical key to unlock them. But this time, with our initial invasion plans shattered by the early war and events having already outrun our existing contingencies, we were having to improvise a new strategy on the fly.
Said strategy had already been shared with Sub-Consul Romelus, who had reported her new Grand Legion would be ready to launch its offensive at dawn as scheduled, but issuing orders in support of her effort as well as to our forces in the center and south required a great deal of careful coordination and planning.
In the end, the Prelate kept it as simple as possible by forming three grand legions with our available forces, naming them according to the winds themselves: Grand Legion Boreas in the north, Grand Legion Ortus in the center, and Grand Legion Auster in the south, each mustering at least five legions and commanded by a sub-Consul with an allotment of Knights attached. The latter we were having to mete out somewhat sparingly given our losses on the first day, with the lion’s share going to sub-Consul Romelus’ main effort in the north.
“For now, the center is but a sideshow whilst the south is to encircle—but not invade—the thestral lands,” the Prelate outlined to his aides as I hurriedly took notes to disseminate his general orders to senior staff. “The key to our effort is in the north. If sub-Consul Romelus can seize the Shetlandian isthmus quickly, then the ponies will have no choice but to abandon their forward defenses and retreat west of the Lunar Sea whilst the pressure on Thestralslovakia grows stronger.
“Surrounded on three sides, we can then conduct both diplomacy and warfare with the bat-ponies from a position of strength,” the Prelate mused mostly to himself. “If, that is, our overtures to their two factions do not bear fruit first. What is the status of our efforts there, sub-Praeter Janus?”
“The Nightborne have rebuffed our initial offer of alliance,” the hooded head of the Office of Owls operations on the Equestrian continent answered, passing several scrolls he had reserved for just that moment, “but our one internal agent on their Lunar Council reports they intend to remain neutral in the conflict despite their treaty with Celestia, as long as we respect their borders. As for the Highborne… our agent signaled that he had arrived and delivered our offer.”
The Prelate accepted the reports with some annoyance at having not received them earlier. Neither I nor Salvio Gaius particularly liked Janus, finding him too secretive and willing to hide failure—a fault that was shared by the entire Owl network, in our experience. But ‘twas certain he was good at his job, and he’d been retained in his post following the Changeling debacle by virtue of the fact he’d been acting on the orders of his superiors in Mosclaw when he did not inform us of the shapeshifting spy’s flight.
“And their response…?” the Prelate prompted, tapping his talons on the stone desk.
“Our agent said that a formal reply was being drawn up by their leader. ‘Twill likely take some days to receive it. He did indicate via secure scrying that she reacted positively to our offer, but she wishes to attach some conditions to her aid.”
“Some conditions? We are already offering those greedy Highborne rule of all Thestralslovakia!” the Primarch pointed out. “Which in my view, is far too great a price to pay! Instead of this idiotic northern advance, you should have ordered an immediate invasion of their lands as the former Legate suggested!”
The quill the Prelate was writing with snapped in his grasp. “If you have nothing to offer of any intelligence or consequence, Primarch, you are more than welcome to retire for the night,” Gaius told her without looking at her, pouring himself more tea to soothe his growing anger.
“I am going nowhere, Prelate. And on behalf of the Empress, I demand an explanation as to why we are not going right through the bat-ponies when we have a perfect opportunity to do so!”
“Very well,” the Prelate grated out through a clenched beak. “The short answer is that Equestria is vast and we have not sufficient troops right now to both subdue the thestrals by force and continue the advance on other fronts towards Canterlot. To do so would be to risk our timetable and the overall success of the campaign!”
“Crows take your timetable, Prelate! Deadlines do not matter, only victory does! And methinks by pursuing this northern diversion, you are wasting time! You are squandering a golden opportunity to push right towards Canterlot and in the process knock the bat-ponies out of the conflict quickly!” she challenged him.
With very great deliberateness, the Prelate laid his scroll down and stood, turning to face her. “Deadlines matter if missing them means we risk our dragon allies abandoning us and setting Celestia loose. They matter if what you suggest would bog us down in an avoidable and potentially bloody sideshow that would hardly be quick!”
“And so now you lose your nerve? The sub-Consul herself said they had no heavy weapons or daytime fighting ability! And as such, their conquest should be easy!”
“And recklessly attacking an unnecessary enemy of unknown numbers or abilities could cost us the war!” he promptly retaliated, and I held my breath, waiting for a challenge to be issued.
But to my mild surprise, and perchance hers as well, he did not offer one. “You say that the Owls suggest an easy victory, Primarch, which is false on its face given our limited intelligence on the bat-ponies!
“For even if the Owl estimates of their overall strength are correct—an assumption which is highly dubious at best—we know not their tactics or weapons, and thus could be badly bloodied by them! Even ignoring that, as things stand ‘twould take at least an entire Grand Legion and a month or more to do the work!
“But if the Owls are in fact underestimating thestral strength by even a third, we would have to double our invasion numbers to subdue them—numbers which would take at least a month more to muster!
“These are troops and time we do not have to spare if we are to reach Canterlot and relieve our dragon allies by winter as we promised!” he reminded her, and ‘tis worth noting ‘twas to our very great relief that the Owls intercepted panicked messages from Canterlot on the first day of war saying Kalator’s dragon clan, whose aid we had paid so painfully for, had besieged the city and caged Celestia as they had promised.
For ‘tis certain our greatest fear had been that he would renege on his deal and let the Princess destroy us so they could plunder our wealth from the Empire’s ruins, and ‘tis also certain we had a lingering worry that they would yet do so if we did not keep our side of the bargain swiftly.
“So we will bypass and surround them for now whilst attempting to secure the aid of their lesser faction. If successful, we consume them from within and a gaping hole is punched in Equestria’s defenses, enabling us to open a second front towards Canterlot right through the middle of their nation. If successful, this will realize our goals at far less cost than an immediate invasion whose outcomes would be far from certain. Are you satisfied, Primarch?”
“Not at all. Too clever and complicated by half, as always,” an unimpressed Livia sneered. “Instead of launching a lightning offensive against them, you scurry and nibble around the edges of their nation like a frightened rat. And be assured, the Empress will hear of this!”
“Too clever and complicated as opposed to what? Grinding our way through their nation’s unknown defenses and unfavorable terrain league by bloody league? Holding up our advance for precious weeks and bleeding our frontline legions dry for lack of intelligence on their numbers or tactics whilst the Equestrians solidify their front and train more troops?” He brought his fist down hard before catching himself. “Enough. Begone from my presence, Primarch! I have work to do, and you are not helping me.”
“Pathetic,” she pronounced, grinning with the knowledge that she’d gotten under his wings. “Perchance you are too tired to remember, but as the Eyes and Ears of the Empress, I am allowed to stay in your presence at all times!”
“Unless I have orders for you, which I do,” he replied acidly. “Whilst waiting for more Fortis Knight support, we need additional heavy infantry, and your Paladins can serve in that capacity. Draw up orders to summon two millennia of your warriors from Mosclaw and dispatch them from the communications office. Do not return until you have gotten an acknowledgement back and arranged for their rapid transit. They may displace Talons, but not Knights, from their transports. And they are to begin arriving within two weeks.”
She puffed up her chest in pride. “So finally you order something useful! As you command, Prelate. And be assured, you will find my forces fully up to the test!” She saluted and departed, at which point the Prelate ordered his other aides except me to leave as well.
After the doors had closed behind them, he slumped slightly and rubbed his temples, replacing his tea with a bottle of rum he pulled out from under the desk.
“Of all the campaigns I have ever been in, none have been so trying as simply having her around at all times,” he told me in confidence, and ‘twas a sign of his trust in me that he showed even the slightest weakness or weariness.
“In truth, my lord, I am impressed you have lasted this long without challenging her to a duel,” I replied as I poured it for him and then myself; the fact that he had brought out two drinking bowls meant he was offering it to me as well.
“In truth, so am I,” he granted, rubbing his eyes again, waiting until both bowls were full before taking his. “If she gave me a valid excuse, I happily would, but I must give her this much—she has not overstepped enough in the eyes of the Empress to grant me one. So for now, we must tolerate her presence,” he growled as he picked up his bowl. “To victory, and to finally being rid of her.”
“As you say,” I agreed, gently clicking the edge of my bowl to his before we both took a long draw—I would normally not indulge, but in truth, I, too, was fatigued and intended to retire before too long. I was not worried about being slain in my sleep; long experience had taught me to awake and attack on a moment’s notice should an assassin threaten. “Then your asking her to summon Paladins to the field ‘twas merely a ruse?”
He chuckled tiredly. “Not hardly. I share your disdain for them and do not expect them to perform well, but ‘tis certain we can use them, and use them up whilst we mass more Fortis Knights for eventual breakthrough operations. If we discredit them with their own poor performances, we discredit her as their leader, and I plan to grant her the opportunity to lead them into battle.
“‘Tis no doubt she will jump at the chance, and when she is slain leading them, she will be out of our headfeathers once and for all,” he promised. “Even if the Empress assigns another guardian, ‘tis certain they will be less abrasive and distracting than she.”
“‘Twould seem you are a step ahead, as always, My Lord,” I said in approval. “I envy your ability to juggle both military and political concerns.”
“Thank you, my friend. But methinks the latter are as tiring as the former are invigorating. And unfortunately, we face both with the thestrals,” he noted again. “I also wanted her gone to discuss them more openly with you. There are several lingering questions in my mind regarding the bat-ponies, and your counsel would be appreciated in answering them.”
“My counsel is yours as always, my Lord,” I bared my throat to him in respect as I would few beings. “What troubles you?”
He considered his words carefully before speaking. “I have lingering doubts whether the course we have chosen is the correct one. Part of me worries that by leaving them for later, we are indeed making a grave mistake,” he admitted to me.
“As much as it pains me to say, the Primarch may actually be correct that ‘twould be better to deal with them now. And if we had our entire invasion army available, I would not hesitate to do so. But with limited forces, we cannot as yet negotiate with them from a position of strength. Mayhap they are already aware of this, as we offered them everything they have always wanted, but still they demand more.”
“Perchance they are not certain we are trustworthy. Or mayhap they wait to see how well our efforts fare before throwing their support to our side. Both would be understandable,” I pointed out. “And as for not invading them immediately, your reasons struck me as sound.
“We do not have sufficient forces right now to attack them whilst continuing towards Canterlot, and should we strike them prematurely, the Owls estimate we bring at least four legions worth of thestral forces into the fight, positioned squarely on our flank. ‘Tis perfectly logical and understandable to avoid them if we wish to keep our timetable intact,” I told him in perfect honesty as he listened tiredly but attentively, his eyes on his rum bowl but nodding occasionally as I spoke.
“I am not the strategist you are, but I can certainly count strength—were we to do as the Primarch demanded, we stall the south and center for having to commit at least half our available sixteen legions against them. And whilst we are occupied with them, Equestrian forces can use that time to rally and recover, leaving us with a far more difficult fight even after the bat-ponies are beaten.
“Therefore, in my view, your idea to avoid conflict and co-opt at least one of the two thestral factions is the correct one. If successful—and whatever demands the Highborne may make, they are at least open to our overtures, unlike the Nightborne—then as you say, we consume them from within and punch open a gaping hole in the Equestrian defenses at little cost to us.”
“And if they do not accede?” The Prelate wondered aloud.
“Then they stay neutral whilst we continue our advance and slowly surround them, bringing in more legions to use against them for when we finally do strike. Understand, My Lord, that though I am a warrior and wish for battle above all, I agree this is one occasion where patience is called for. For an immediate attack would tie up too many of our available legions at a time when speed of advance is crucial. So taking on Thestralslovakia is simply not advantageous to our overall objectives right now.”
Gaius smiled, then took a long draw of his drink, instantly relaxing for its alcoholic effects. “Your counsel is correct and well-thought as always, Tribune. And methinks all your points were ones I had already considered and apparently forgotten.” He chuckled softly to himself, rubbing his eyes again. “Perchance I am more tired than I realized. ‘Tis certain I have had precious little rest since we started this invasion, particularly last night.” The ghost of a smile touched his face. “You wouldst forgive me my momentary doubts.”
“‘Twould worry me more if you did not have them,” I told him as I topped off his drink. “I remind you that a commander that never worries never wins—advice you yourself once shared with me. In any event, as most of our work is now done, I respectfully request you leave the remaining reports to me and retire. For even the mightiest of warriors—and the best of commanders—require sleep, My Lord.”
“As you say,” he nodded his head in acknowledgement, then downed the rest of the rum. “I trust you to wake me if I am needed. But be sure and rest yourself. One way or another, ‘tis certain your counsel and combat abilities will be needed again in the days and weeks ahead, my friend.”
“As the Prelate commands,” I bared my throat and saluted him, taking station outside his sleeping quarters as he entered them.
‘Twas another two hours before I finally finished and slept, laying out in a corner where I could see the room and respond instantly to any intrusion.
Thank you for another interesting entry, Ambassador, and your insights into the mind of Prelate Salvio Gaius, the gryphon we loved to hate. And now, conversely, the gryphon we hate to love as we come to understand and appreciate the various pressures he was under and how well—at least at first—he held up under them, even in the face of the Primarch’s provocations.
Though perchance even he would have been given pause at the situation I was presented with in Cloudsdale as I lay stunned on the ground, unable to stop Thunderbolt from continuing his advance on Gavian; the former Second Lieutenant having already cut a swath through all of us to reach him:
How do you stop the unstoppable force? At that moment, lying paralyzed again with my son’s life in mortal danger, I had no answer. But fortunately, another pony did.
—Firefly
Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0059 hours
“Stay down, lad.” Methinks I had been no less shocked by Typhoon’s unexpected appearance than Gavian, thanking the sun and Celestia herself for the reprieve, even though I knew not how he could fulfil his oath to follow—if neither me, Swift Strike, Fell Flight or Gavian could stop Thunderbolt, what chance did even the Captain of the Guard have? “And stay behind me. On my honor as an officer and warrior, I swear before the Sun of Celestia that he will not harm you.”
“Captain Typhoon,” Thunderbolt acknowledged with a half-meant salute as he pulled himself up and anchored himself in place with his wings against the slowing gale. “Your reputation and the stories of your command of the wind precede you. But they are not needed here. I am not your enemy.”
“And neither is he,” Typhoon answered in his characteristically deep voice, his turquoise eyes locked with Thunderbolt’s blue ones as he motioned back towards Gavian, who was still gaping up at his unlikely savior. “Stand down, Lieutenant. That is an order.”
“The hay I will!” Thunderbolt sneered. “Even if I was still in the service, the Corps does not fall under the Royal Guard’s chain of command!”
“At the moment, I am the acting Corps Commander, by direction of Our Princess herself. I will be happy to show you the Celestial Seal on my appointment orders if you wish. So once again, I order you to step away!”
“Congratulations on your appointment. But I am a civilian, not one of your Royal Guard toadies! I have not survived battle with a thousand gryphons to be ordered about by a single stallion who knows not the ordeal we suffered… sir!”
“And I have not come through fire and fog or had to slay two of my own aides to bandy insults or exchange war stories with you,” Typhoon replied through narrowed eyes. “I have not slept whilst searching for the city, and I am in no mood for this. So stand down before I put you down, Lieutenant. This gryphon is not our enemy,” the Captain stated authoritatively in a deep voice that was somehow completely commanding whilst remaining eerily calm.
“Not our enemy?” Thunderbolt echoed mockingly, his sneer deepening. “After slaughtering my friends and after what they have done here? All gryphons are our enemy! And all gryphons must die!” Thunderbolt proclaimed, and I cringed to hear sounds of agreement from the six or so Cloudsdale civilians present.
“So you wouldst become not a soldier, but a slayer of the innocent?” Typhoon asked in disgust. “Are you truly that far gone, Lieutenant?”
“Innocent?” Thunderbolt spat out to full-throated shouts of outrage from the civilian pegasi watching from a distance, his eyes blazing; Rolling Thunder likewise watched unhappily but did not intervene. “That gryphon came to Cloudsdale before, most likely as a spy! ‘Tis certain from his earlier visit that he is how they knew the city layout and where to target their attacks!” he said to more calls for Gavian’s blood.
“He, or a simple tourist map of the city and weather factory the Owls stole,” Typhoon replied easily, making sure all heard him. “Tell me, Second Lieutenant: do you really think it likely a sixteen-year old gryphon cub—a cub the Empire tried twice to kill—passed them such easily obtainable intelligence?” He raised his voice for all to hear. “Even a moment’s thought should tell you he had nothing to do with this.”
“Even if true, it matters not! He belongs to a murderous race whose ways are an affront to Equestria itself! A race whose very existence must be expunged if we are to survive! Now stand aside!” he ordered anew, an electrical charge building up around him once more. His actions caused the hairs of my short-cut mane to stand on end as I realized I dare not try to block one of his bolts again, for deflecting his first had taken everything I had and left me with little strength after.
“Sir…” I coughed out the words, my lungs and voice only barely beginning to work again as my muscles struggled to shake off the electrical blow whilst further off to the sides, Swift Strike lay unconscious whilst Fell Flight was only just starting to twitch. I believe ‘twas only then I truly understood the difference between a simple lightning affinity and full blown mastery, and realized how far I had yet to go.
“Save my son… stop him…” I begged even as ‘twas certain to me that he couldn’t—that Gavian was going to die right here in front of me, and worse, he would be slain by one of our own.
“Don’t worry, Master Sergeant. Your son is safe,” he promised, tilting his head slightly towards me whilst keeping his gaze fixed on Thunderbolt.
“Her son?” Thunderbolt repeated in disbelief. “Spare me such sentimental rubbish! By his very race, he’s an enemy of Equestria! His presence alone is a blight on our city and an insult to all who perished! So stand aside, Captain! For the cause of vengeance and justice done, I’m going to kill him!”
“No. You will not.” The Captain replied in an air that said he was not boasting but simply stating a fact. “There is no justice in your actions, Lieutenant. He is not an enemy. What you propose is nothing more than murder, and I will not let you touch him.”
“Oh, really?” Thunderbolt smirked. “You and what army, sir? An entire cohort of gryphons couldn’t stand against me! I slew several centuries of Knights and Ravens with ease! I just took out your best Guardspony as well as a Black Lance without effort! They couldn’t stop me, so what makes you think that you can... Captain?” he offered the honorific in mocking tones.
Typhoon’s sole reply was a sly grin that only infuriated Thunderbolt further, if the increased static crackle around him was any indication.
“No...” I struggled desperately to climb back to my hooves, only to find them still too weak and numb to support me. “Have to… stop him…”
“Stay where you are, Master Sergeant,” Typhoon called out. “You saved your son once already. Now allow me to do so.”
“But—”
“It’s all right, Commander,” a just-arrived Still Way told me, using his weakened magic to help me to my hooves. I don’t know how he got there except he must have run down the gangplank, and I could just see that armed Epsilon and Loyalty pegasi were now pouring off the airship, moving to surround the scene.
“He isn’t just blowing air. I promise that Gavian is safe. The Captain of the Guard has his post for a reason. Don’t interfere. Just watch,” the Celestial Guardspony spoke quickly but quietly. ‘Tis certain that had anypony but him made that promise to me, I would not have believed it. But the First Sergeant didn’t lie, ever.
‘Twas then he raised his voice, using his magic to boost his volume further. “To all ponies watching—whatever happens, do not intervene! The Captain can deal with him.”
“Deal with me? Such amazing arrogance,” Thunderbolt shook his head, the murderous gleam in his eyes growing. “But so be it. It makes my task all the easier!”
“If you say so,” was all Typhoon would state in response, his disgust deepening. “Your task is impossible, Lieutenant. For it requires you to go through me.”
“I’ll take my chances! Final warning: stand aside!” he ordered the Captain with a stomp of his hoof as fresh electricity crackled around him, lowering his head in a predatory manner again.
“Final warning: stand down!” A fierce gale came up around the Captain even without him using his wings, which remained flared like a shield in front of a cowering Gavian. And yet, for all that, his stance was completely relaxed. He had not a hint of tension in his muscles, leaving me—and in hindsight, Thunderbolt himself—unable to read how he would react to an attack.
“Then on your head be it!” Thunderbolt shouted as he charged the Captain right through the hurricane blast that greeted him, gathering his electrical power to deliver a massive bolt.
But before he could launch it, the Captain’s image seemed to blur and when it resolved again, the tip of his hoof had made contact with Thunderbolt’s chin. Though ‘twasn’t a hard strike, it instantly dispersed his opponent’s aborning lightning bolt and caused his muscles to seize.
I barely had time to register that before a series of rapid-fire hoofstrikes to Thunderbolt’s torso followed; ones so fast I could barely see or count them. Individually, none of the blows seemed that powerful, but there was a visible circular ripple beneath Thunderbolt’s fur from each hit like from a stone dropped into a pond.
I don’t know how many such strikes were launched in that small space of time—methinks at least a dozen in that first half-second—but just as quickly as they began, they ceased as Typhoon stepped back and turned away, completely unconcerned even though he was exposing himself to Thunderbolt’s attack, perchance fatally.
But Thunderbolt did not move, his hoof still extended to deliver his failed strike and jaw locked open in an expression of total shock and disbelief. As he did not so much as twitch, it dawned on me that he was completely paralyzed to the point not even his eyes could move!
Oblivious to his opponent’s state and to the impossibility of his feat, Typhoon walked up to Gavian and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, lad. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you now,” the Captain promised gently, holding out a hoof to him and helping him up. He shielded Gavian protectively with a wing as he guided his shaking form towards me. “You are under my protection, as by direction of Our Princess, I am taking command of this entire city!” He raised his voice for all to hear, and none stepped or flew forward to dispute his claim.
“Th-thank you…” Gavian sniffled, hiding his face in shame from me. “Thank you.” After he said it a second time, he broke down completely, sobbing into his wing.
“You are welcome, young gryphon. And know that none shall harm you. Not even him.” As he spoke, he contemptuously struck Thunderbolt on the side with but the tip of his wing as he passed. Even the minor hit caused an unmoving and unbalanced Thunderbolt to topple stiffly on his side, unable to extend a limb or even so much as a single pinion to arrest his fall.
“The Polaris Pressure Points Technique,” Still Way said, saluting his Captain with great satisfaction as Gavian all but leapt into my arms. “An amazing art, enabling its practitioner to paralyze or even slay with but a single touch. An art so potent yet difficult to learn that not even I could counter or master it…”
“Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment.” ―Mario Puzo, The Godfather
And there you have it. Captain Typhoon is officially the biggest badass of the Equestrian military. 
At this point in Equestrian history, it stands to reason that you don’t ascend to Captain of the Guard unless you’re the best of the best, and he is. He doesn’t flaunt it, but he will use it when he needs to. And I figured having him basically one-shot Thunderbolt after he’d just taken out four of the best fighters we know without breaking a sweat was the perfect way to show how good he really was. Needless to say, he will be a significant figure in this story going forward, and you’ll learn more about him in the coming chapters.
Thanks as always go to AJ_Aficionado, who was in rare form in the google doc comments, and Silentwoodfire for promptly prereading this. Regards and best get-well-soon wishes go to Denim_Blue, who continues to fight off an ailment (no, not Coronavirus!)
The parting thought I will leave you with on this chapter is that there are in fact two ways to defeat Thunderbolt in single combat—assuming, that is, you have sufficient speed and skill to begin with (and very few do). His lethality comes from the simple fact he can read his opponents instinctively and see what they’re going to do even before they know, and thus he knows even before the first strike exactly how to counter and kill them. So in order to beat him, you have to defeat his uncanny ability to predict movement in one of two ways:
- You’re completely relaxed and serene so he can’t read you.
- You’re batshit crazy and thus completely unpredictable.
Captain Typhoon is an example of the former. But for the latter... stay tuned. 
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This is just a world of badass, isn't it. There are just...many extraordinary fighters, each in their own way. But Typhoon? Damn.
Do you mean Twinkleshine?
Neigh, she means LInky!
It's also a great excuse to get a promotion by setting up your boss!
Or get rid of a subordinate! That axe swings both ways, Twinkie. Yeh better not be plottin' anything!
Thestrals really are the fourth race of pony, always swinging both ways!
That they haven't already is remarkable. The terrain is suited for defense, roads are poor and meandering, colonial hunting society and language divisions promote in-group preference over national identity and almost all of the bat ponies can fly. If it wasn't for fair Luna's lingering influence, they'd have fallen into anarchy ages ago.
I think it's cool how they've managed their population growth with minimal forest clearing over time, all while maintaining a hunting tradition. They must put as much work into animal management as we do into wrapping up winter.
The poor soul. In the back of her mind, she'd anticipated the possible outcome of having to fight her own people aboard a warship of Luna's service in the company of a mare she'd just called a mischling. That she was able to compose herself at all speaks highly of her warrior's spirit.
Can I just point out we've seen a racist portrayed honorably without making her the sympathetic face of a racist faction? I call this progress!
Now, Linky, Yeh know you're not supposed to say good things about racism. It's bad and yeh shood feel bad. Are we not four races of ponies?
You're right, Linky; I see the light now. I'll get the feathers and you get the tar. We'll teach this bat a lesson she won't soon forget!
Evil racist bat ponies. Clearly yeh can't trust the lot of them! Where's me pitchfork? There's killin' to be done!
They glanced at each other, and then at their battalion commander mare, who bore the insignia of a major and smirked. “Be assured your mimicry spell was perfect, Guardspony—too perfect. We knew something was wrong when we kept sensing the... energies of a rutting unicorn stallion from your ship at the rate of once a minute,” she informed him privately in front of the ship’s command group, causing a series of blinks and blushes, whilst Fell Flight broke into a huge grin.
And ponies think magic is just a way of doing things easy. Oh no, no no no no no. Magic is just a way to potentially mess-up on a scale most creatures can't even comprehend.
If only they'd had a government that made more sense, they might have kept their empire. Having an emperor who isn't a king ruling over nations led by kings makes me head hurt.
Fly you fool!
For all the good it does him. Thunderbolt is lethal at any range and can outfly him. That lad is staring death itself in the face. Celestia, save him!
I'm so glad I don't live in a cloud city. I can't go a day without dropping something. You'd come home to our entire house scattered out in a field somewhere below the city.
So anything that isn't cloud falls through if it loses contact with a flight-capable creature, right? What if yeh made the weapon out of cloud?
A weapon... out of cloud? Only you Linky would try to take water and cut somepony with it.
Hear me out! If yeh can make cloud into floor which can hold up fayrnature and iceboxes and all that rubbish, yeh can surely make somethin' that can cut somepony's throat.
Oh, you can do better than that. Ever heard of a pegasi cloud computer? Basically hackproof unless you've got wings.
Begorrah! That would be the death of me. Tornados are the worst! At least this one isn't one of the wild ones yeh get in Caleponia that go wherever they want.
For the Herd!
Lok'tar ogar! Fer the Heeeerd!
What's better than a lightning cutie-mark? A category-5 hurricane! Some ponies have all the luck!
Well, I'd have liked to do the entire comment tonight but I'm feeling winded, no pun intended. I'll finish up tomorrow.
Kinda reminds me 'Fist of the Northstar'. Kinda.
Man the Primarch is stupid.
ANd Bolt, you need to freakign chill man.
I'm not surprised that Typhoon is the biggest badass in the Equestrian military and Thunderbolt is clearly insane in a dangerous way. I'm also certain that when the leader of the dragons is dead the remainder of the clan will punish the gryphons for costing them their home. I'm not sure if the prelate has considered what happens if the Nightborne learn of the deal the gryphons are trying to make with the Highborne.
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She was probably raised to believe that gryphons are all supersoliders or something
Nothing to do but pick myself up, accept that Kkat decided to write a second-person narration fic and drink another coffee. Blacker than a moonless night, hotter and more bitter than Hell itself... and far less confusing to read! Alright, here is the section Linky and Twinkleshine are really needed for. I'll let them take over from here.
Oh, look. Our favorite plank has come to regale us with her knowledge of strategy and tactics!
I won't even have to lean on you for support this time, Linky. Let's just drive this griffon's weak arguments into the ground like a tent post and call it a night!
On the first day, yeh thought you had a plan. By the fourth day, the enemy had taken yehr plan, wadded it into a ball and bucked it straight into the trash. Welcome to reality.
Reality: It's a story told by a second-person narrator that you cannot backspace away from.
Hear, hear.
At least the Prelate was able to position himself into a reasonably cohesive mass with a mutually supporting formation. It seems like he did it pretty fast too despite the admitted difficulties.
Griffon skill is showing here but they're still close to their supply line. It is a blessing is some respect the Empire was challenged so soon as a major disruption later could have caused a disastrous rout. There's still time to recover the situation from this point having gained a great deal of insight into Pony military capabilities and the limitations of their own armed forces.
The center is the most direct path to Canterlot, is it not?
Aye, but it's vulnerable to counterattack from a two-pronged attack on the flanks of Army Group Center passing through Detrot, backed by reserves brought up from Equestria's rear. While it doesn't make sense from the standpoint of carrying the initiative and the Griffons lose flanking support from the other two armies, a northern sweep outflanks Equestria's defenses effectively and allows the Empire to roll up or force the Ponies back from their prepared positions all across the line. One of these days I'll get yeh to play Panzer Corps!
I tried. I just can't get over how much time I waste save scumming on every single mission. Urgh!
Well, get good, yeh softbodied civilian!
The map shows a number of good chokepoints across the East. I can totally see why the Griffons decided to go there. I can't help but notice their strategy relies on speed, surprise and traversing great distances. One of these things is not like the others.
True, my student. However, war doesn't lend itself to the programmer's vision of scenarios designed by teams of mares to be defeated using a given set of actions. Yeh get one chance, yeh make yehr decision and in the end, failure may be inevitable because you were given a number of bad choices to pick from.
I love this line if only because I can imagine Janus deadpan staring Gaius in the face in silence just because he can't stand the idea of sharing information with him until he flat-out orders him to do it!
That's reasonable. They're probably less able to fight independently than the Nightborne are. All we've seen of them is a bunch of thestralcorns living in a temple and a traveling merchant. The Nightborne have MANGO scanners that can read magical signatures!
Yeh know what, Twinkie? I agree with yeh. Some concessions in the form of war materiel or troops are perfectly reasonable.
An invasion through the mostly rugged and easily defensible part of the line against an unknown and potentially dangerous force? What an idiot! You see, Linky, everything she says is just completely moronic.
camo.fimfiction.net/se7v8lfh_1oMWQ13aglLkKi0p97uHSmzJJxKYSFfGhM?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2FQZ2trt_PCmSXtrNuBIPQONXkkCDUJxGnDiMjZ1w924tKSPuEvjQjcDm4hX5j4kWji4mSGXwLkXPlcSX4xAndbnHlph1GtSuU0I1XUYLkGCfD8rObgdXiAFHWR_ErlZ_f3xYBd3i6
Goddesses, that could actually work! Canterlot is right of the other side and even has a highway junction via Victory City! Worse off for the ponies, the griffons would have the Foal mountains t' use as a screen, making their movements invisible. Victory City itself is going t' be minimally defended because it's not a chokepoint. I dinnae think I'd ever say it, but Primarch Livia is absolutely right!
Whaaaaaaaaat!?
With Thestralslovakia, yeh wouldn't even need to push on all fronts. Unhinging the line in the south is just as much a checkmate as it is in the north.
But think about the sheer number of Griffons such an assault would require to pacify such a large territory. Worse off, even assuming everypony involved can fly, terrain features will break up unified attacks into smaller-scale skirmishes drawing out the fight and allowing the ponies to recover for a counter-offensive!
The Griffons can call in powerful air strikes on pockets of resistence. With speed and violence of action, the Gryphon Empire can prevail. You do poorly not to consider the warrior's will to overcome and dominate an unprepared opponent!
I dunno, Linky... Who's to say the Griffons are any more prepared? I mean, if this was something they had in mind from the start, you'd think they'd have made a contingency for it and detailed all the units who'd fight and where they'd get their supplies from and who would lead it. They have no leader willing to risk the fight and concieve of no plan for how to overcome the Thestrals inside their forests. Logically any attack they come up with on the fly is going to come to ground pretty fast, right?
I... Well... Darn it!
Is this Loss?
Okay, fine, I'll admit it. Yeh made an excellent point. Any plan is better than no plan in war.
The student has become the Mistress!
Oh go boil yehr haed! I mean I'm proud of you.
His voice is so deep due to the gravitational distortion generated by his massive pair of apples.
Absolutely based!
Twinky, are yeh daft? Gavin is one of the good guys!
Yes, but even so...
Pegasi cheat!
Pegasi cheat!
Who is your Goddess now?
Oh yeah! Who's awesome? We're awesome!
Twinkie, get the slingshot...
And even rarer form for at least part two of this chapter's comment. Enjoy!
10133805
That’s the reaction I was going for. It’s a different era of a different world where such martial skills are necessary. And Typhoon tops the list of them on the pony side right now.
10133985
As well it should. That was the inspiration, minus the post-apocalyptic setting and all the exploding bodies. The ability will be a bit more measured here, however.
10134699
Mostly just single-minded. On matters of strategy, she can’t see past “There’s the enemy! Attack!”
He’ll be chilling out nicely after this. As you’ll see in the next chapter, the Captain isn’t quite done with him yet.
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I’m not sure you can be insane in a safe way. Thunderbolt’s a slave to his bloodlust and his desire for violence and vengeance, which is triggered at this point whenever he sees a gryphon. Outside of that, he’s okay, or at least has been to this point. One wonders what this defeat will do to him.
We’ll have to see, but you can bet Gaius has a plan in his back pocket in case the dragons turn on them.
Basically, their deal was offered to both sides without informing either it wasn’t exclusive, and the first one to accept it gets it. He’d prefer the more numerous Nightborne, but he’ll take the Highborne. And either way, the plan is the same--use them to neutralize Thestralslovakia and open at little cost a new route to Canterlot.
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Two girls without whom my comment sections would be a lot less interesting! Welcome back, ladies! Sit a spell and have some popcorn.
Presumbably there are controls against that, and you have to be able to justify your actions with proof and witnesses afterwards. In this case, the General honestly believed that all his forces would follow him for the glory of the Moon and Luna once he explained himself, openly boasting of what he had done.
And they always induce others to do the same! Just ask poor Blueblood over in Nightmare Night. Then again, is he really worse off for it now? Some would say that he's in a far better place for it!
Thank you for reminding me about the terrain, Linky. I'll have to add in a blurb to that effect. it would have made an excellent counterpart to the Primarch's rantings.
Well, ponies depend on crops and the thestrals depend on meat lacking the earth pony ability to grow enough food. So it's critical for them to maintain their animal populations. They do sell some meat to ponies at their trading posts, though none of the latter would ever admit to it.
Helped that Fell Flight saved her, too, but yes. She did what she did for her nation and not herself. She in fact fully expected to be ostracized and exiled for it, and would have to request asylum on the airship.
Are Kirin a fifth?
This isn't a college campus, girls. Then again, they're all cleared out by Coronavirus anyway.
Thank AJA for this suggestion, girls! He made a joke in the comments to this effect, and it was too good not to use! The perfect means for Still Way to screw up believably (and hilariously!)
Or you could have it like in the Narnia movies:
Well, technically, Celestia did save him by dispatching Typhoon to search for Cloudsdale? Just hold out a minute, guys!
Fun fact: Gavian's Raven blade is enchanted and won't fall through a cloud. It could actually be hidden inside a cloud and pulled out later, which can be very useful to the Ravens on certain missions. I'll have to make a point of explaining this later.
The Cloud is all the rage! And the pegasi control it...
the Enclave will rise again!
They have stormchasers there too, you know! One of the most famous is Pecos Hawk.
Love that. I'll have to use it as a song selection later.
Maybe, but you could make an argument that Gavian is now the luckiest being alive for being saved from Thunderbolt by the one pony in all Equestria who could beat him one-on-one!
Your effort was very much appreciated, sir. It's always good to hear from the two ladies and listen to them wax philosophical as they examine the characters and tactics. Glad you enjoyed this, ladies! And I look forward to part 2!
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That picture alone makes the music sound in my head, and for it, I get a craving for coffee. Damn you, Godot! Then again, I don't have a bladder that can take drinking 17 cups per court appearance.
I wish you better luck than Donald Duck at driving tent posts!
No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. Even in their altered plan, they expected the south would show the least advance and the center the most. Instead the south took two hundred miles of ground while the north and center were stalled in large measure by Epsilon and Gamma, respectively, as well as savage resistance at other bases.
That's very true. They could have been pulled deeper into Equestria and away from their supply base before a crisis hit, like a bat-pony attack on their flank and been in much more dire circumstances for it. The Prelate is doing the right things, despite his own lingering doubts. And they do have more legions on the way, with another 14 yet to be committed to the fight (they launched the invasion with 16 legions after having originally planned to attack with 30).
And shortly, Panzer Corps 2!
The endlessly addicting turn-based strategy game. The central route is vulernable in other ways as well, as the story will soon show. They may have taken out the weather factory, but that doesn't mean pony weather control can't yet come into play in surprising ways. 
No goldbricks here!
It's true. Sometimes the choice isn't between good and bad, but bad and worse. Though the Shetlandian Isthmus route is a potential very good choice that the Prelate basically pulled out of his posterior. He recognized that it's the one chokepoint that, if taken, bypasses the rest. You get past it and you're into the wide open unicorn plains which is perfect for their brand of mobile warfare and where there's no easy place to set a defense.
Janus lives by the credo that information is power and giving it up surrenders power, even to his leader. He's not wrong in thinking this, you know.
MANGO scanners. I love it. I am really going to have to use that in the story!
My thoughts exact—
In the immortal words of Maya Fey... WHAAAAAAAATTTTT??????
What if I were to tell you girls that you're both right here? You'll see in due course what I mean.
They did have units earmarked for an invasion of batpony lands, but they're all overseas right now! They were to wait for additional intelligence on them and train for their tactics and terrain accordingly.
This is all well-reasoned and well-argued, ladies. And reflects nicely the debate that went on with in the Gryphon Empire itself, as shown by the argument between the Primarch and Prelate. The latter is loathe to give the former any credit but worries she might actually be right here. Their lack of numbers, however, make that a moot point until additional legions arrive.
Their incredible weight is how he isn't swept away by his own tempests!
Their size would put the curse-altered ones in Nightmare Night to shame... 
Cold, Linky. But I'm sure the Overmare herself would approve!
Be grateful for Gavian they did!
Fly for your life, Rainbow! Not even Typhoon could save you now!
Indeed, sir! This one was a complete classic from beginning to end. I admit I missed the girls! their commentary is always a joy to read. Hope my responses were equally fun!
its possible
if your funny to watch and not a danger to others around you
also
Kenshiro
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The problem is, that's hard to tell and one form of insanity can quickly morph into another.
He was indeed the inspiration.
Typhoon's not quite so overpowered, however. He can't make somebody explode. And he doesn't perpetually tear his shirt off when he powers up (how does that always get repaired so quickly, anyway?)
You had me in tears... Most fertile stallion indeed
Only life and very creative Authors can come up with stuff like that 
Sooo... I guess this Civil war predicted to start comes rather sooner or later.
Doomslayer and Thunderbolt seem to have a good counter. When strength need to be countered with technical and very stylish combat.
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Thunderbolt’s not invincible no matter how much he may think otherwise at times. He can be worn down with sheer weight of numbers by a clever commander. He could be pinned and suffocated with magical finesse. And as you’ve just seen, there are even a couple (non-Celestia) beings on both sides of the battle lines who could defeat him in a one-on-one duel...
Oh shit.
Terrifying. Fucking Terrifying. I thought it would happen at some point, but I didn't think it'd be so soon after getting to Cloudsdale. My gods. Even knowing he survives the war, this was fucking... FEAR
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Indeed.
Which is once again exactly what I was going for.
And how he faces that fear is going to be the climax of the second story arc. 