The Battle of Alkatin Pass

by The 24th Pegasus

Strangers

“Good morning, Equestria! How are my favorite ponies in the whole wide world doing? Great? Spectacular? That’s good to hear! I’m great too, thanks for asking!

“As we all get ready to start another wonderful day in Equestria, let’s take a moment to be thankful for everything good we’ve got going for us: the sun, the moon, the Princesses, our friends and family, and our very way of life. But, most importantly, let’s make sure to keep our soldiers in our hearts and prayers. They’re the ones keeping us safe, after all!

“I know it’s hard to go so long without hearing from your loved ones, but just remember that they’re fighting and doing everything they can do to keep us safe back at home. After all, if it wasn’t for them, the Hives would have swarmed across Equestria ages ago! They try so very hard to keep us all safe, and the least we can do is remember that and do what we can here at home to support them. And remember, we’ve been doing this for ten years now. What’s a little more, right?

“But I’ve got some exciting news for you all! I’ve just heard from my friends in high places that there’s going to be a decisive battle at Alkatin Pass in the coming days. This could be what we’re all waiting for, everypony! This could be the end of the war! Finally, after ten years, our families can come home and we can all sleep safely at night without worrying about infiltrators watching us wherever we go! Finally, after ten years, our dear Celestia can come home and bring peace to Equestria once more! I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a reason enough to party to me!

“Let’s keep our hooves crossed and wait for news from the front! You can bet that as soon as I hear something, I’ll share it all with the rest of you! Stock up on those party favors and confetti, because we might have reason to celebrate in a few days’ time!

“I’m your hostess… well, you all already know who I am! And keep your sound stones tuned to this resonance, because I’m not going anywhere!”

----

The Major finally opened her eyes as the Hostess’ voice faded out. She stared up at the coarse canvas of the tent above her head as a simple tune began to hum its way out of the sound stone next to her cot. Without even looking, she stuck a wing out and brushed the runes carved into its surface, silencing the rock and leaving her alone with her thoughts. She would need a few minutes of quiet reflection to prepare herself for the day ahead.

She didn’t even get one. Her sensitive ears, honed from years of listening for infiltrators scurrying around her camp, immediately picked up the sound of horseshoes crunching dust approaching her tent. Sighing, she sat up and rubbed at her temples, her sweaty mane falling in front of her eyes. Before the newcomer could finish clearing their throat, the Major had brushed her mane out of her face and glared at the door. “Enter.”

The soldier did as ordered, stepping inside the tent and immediately adopting a formal salute upon making eye contact with the Major. Silvery armor practically glittered like pure moonlight in the early dawn sun. The soldier’s face, still protected by their half helm, dripped sweat onto the dirt floor of the Major’s tent. Though the sun made it intolerably hot during the summer in the Badlands, the Major knew that it wasn’t yet hot enough that a soldier would begin pouring sweat just from standing around. That observation made her ears perk the tiniest amount, and she leaned forward on her cot. “Speak.”

“Major,” the soldier began, dropping her salute. “Our pickets spotted drones probing the rocks and passes around Alkatin. You said you wanted to know the moment they began mobilizing reconnaissance units in numbers.”

The Major raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Fifty or sixty drones across a three mile front,” the soldier answered. “Our mages drove them off when they got too close to our positions. But their movements seemed to be concentrating around the Twins.”

“I see.” The Major nodded her head once. “Is that all?”

“Our sentries reported dust from the canyon to the south leading up to the Twins.” The soldier faltered and swallowed hard. “More dust than at Dead Mare’s Gulch.”

The Major frowned down her muzzle. “Beasts and behemoths, then,” she said. “They’re desperate. Alkatin is the door into the hives, and after we took the Twins, they know they need to drive us back now or lose the war entirely.”

The soldier nodded and stilled her trembling shoulders. “That’s… that’s good then, right?”

“We’re stretched thin but we’re stronger than they are,” the Major said. She grunted as she swung her legs off her cot and began to stretch in preparation of a difficult day. “If we win, it’s over. If we lose, the war drags on for another five years as we reconsolidate and try to stop them. Whenever the Hives punch through our lines, they ravage the land for dozens of miles before they’re finally stopped. And with everything we have spread across the Badlands, it’ll take months just to put everything back into position to stop them.” Her eyes flicked to the soldier. “You remember Appleloosa.”

“Don’t we all,” the soldier said in a quiet voice. “If we’d just had the griffons—!”

The Major silenced her with a glare. “The griffons have their own problems,” she said. “You know as well as I do that they’re still recovering from their succession crisis. They hardly have enough food to feed themselves and soldiers to police their land, much less send anything over here.”

“I… I know, Major.” The soldier sighed and hung her head. “This war could have been over much faster if we had their help.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it. We just have to stand tall and shoulder our own burdens.”

Cracking her neck from side to side, the Major grabbed a comb and began to run it through her mane. “Is there anything else?”

The soldier shook her head. “No, ma’am. That was it.”

“Good.” After fussing with her mane for a few seconds more, the Major turned to her armor stand and began to lift the pieces off of it with her wings. “Rally the company, Lightning Dust. We need to have everypony wearing their armor within the hour. Once you see the dust, a fight isn’t too far off.”

Lightning Dust saluted the Major one more time. “Yes, Major,” she said, her hooves neatly snapping together in military fashion. She held the salute for two seconds before abruptly pivoting on her hooves and marching out of the tent, and the Major waited until she heard the soldier’s wings beat at the air before she continued donning her armor.

It would be a long day indeed… maybe the longest of her life.

-----

“Is this really all we can muster? Is this really all we have?”

The Quartermaster frowned down at the scrolls in front of her. Numbers and lines etched across the parchment, all of them too low and too little for her liking. Growling, her horn surged as she angrily spun the scroll around and shoved it into the face of the mare on the other side. “How are we supposed to feed our soldiers for the next week, Coco? How are we supposed to give the chiurgeons everything they need to stop our ponies from bleeding out and dying after a drone bites through their shoulder?!”

The Quartermaster’s assistant shrank back from the paper in her face. “I-I’m sorry, but that’s just the best we can do!” she squeaked. “Supply lines are stretched thin enough as they are! Our trains keep getting attacked by infiltrators and guerilla soldiers too far away from our camp for Celestia’s clairvoyance to detect! It’s all we can get in, all things considered!”

The Quartermaster sighed and slouched back in her chair. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling of her tent, where she’d attempted to cut and stitch sheltered windows and holes into the canvas to try and get some air to circulate in the barren dryness of the badlands. It would have been a good idea if there was ever any wind out in this Celestia-forsaken hellscape, but the only times they had wind, it came with sand. The coarse sand ruined her mane and chewed through her makeup, stripping her of the only pride and vanity she’d been allowed to take into the military when drafted.

“Army Group Center has no fewer than thirty-two thousand and nine-hundred and fifteen ponies, counting all the support staff along with the soldiers,” she slowly said, pulling the numbers from the summation report she’d read the night prior. “We only have enough grain to feed them for three more days. If this war doesn’t end soon, we’re going to have to pull back to Appleloosa to shorten our supply trains.” Growling, she lunged forward and slapped her hoof on the desk. “And yet when I bring this up to the Major, she has the gall to claim that her soldiers would be much better utilized elsewhere, like on weather patrol or establishing picket lines! Doesn’t she understand that the very moment the next grain wagon fails to arrive we’re going to lose our army?! Who will win the war then?!”

The assistant opened her mouth to say something in reply, but the Quartermaster ignored her entirely. “The soldiers are practically mutinous as it is. We’ve been gone for ten years. Celestia, I would pay any price to return to my sister and my family again. And after all we’ve struggled and fought for, I know for a fact that there are many soldiers out there that would throw away their swords and bows just to go see their foals again! So if the grain doesn’t come… if the supplies don’t make it here in one piece…”

The Quartermaster threw herself back in her chair once more and practically seemed to deflate. “The generals think war is won on the battlefield. I know better. An army only fights on its stomach and only holds a lance so long as they’re content. In a few days’ time, we’re going to see mass desertions. I guarantee it.”

The assistant swallowed and nervously opened a scroll on the Quartermaster’s desk. “What would you have me do then, ma’am?”

The Quartermaster frowned and knitted her brows together. “We’re going to need to cut rations back again,” she said. “We need to make what we have last for six days, not three. Additionally, I want a message sent to the Major saying that we need better protection along our supply lines or we’re going to lose the army. This is non-negotiable.”

She tapped her chin as her assistant scribbled her orders down. “Make sure the Princess gets a copy of that as well. If the Major won’t listen to her quartermaster, then maybe our benevolent leader will.”

A few more seconds of a quill scratching across the paper, and then silence. The assistant folded up the scroll and looked to the Quartermaster. “Anything else?”

“I would kill for a glass of wine, but if our grain stores are as empty as I’ve been made to believe, then I doubt you can help very much with regards to that front.” The Quartermaster sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “Celestia, the price I pay to keep this army functional…”

After a brief moment’s hesitation, the assistant stepped forward and placed her hoof over the Quartermaster’s. “You’re doing a great job,” she assured her. “Nopony else could do better.”

“I can’t believe I left a boutique for this,” the Quartermaster grumbled. “In any event, once this is over we’ll either be heroes or living out the rest of our days in cocoons. I think I’ll take my rest then, however it comes.”

The assistant nodded, but both ponies froze when they heard the shouting of soldiers outside. After a few seconds to decipher their words, the Quartermaster groaned and hung her head. “And there’s going to be a fight today,” she muttered to herself. “I suppose I better eat my breakfast now before the wounded start rolling in.” She abruptly stood up and stormed around the table, leaving her assistant to scramble after her. “It’s been ten years, but I still can’t get over the sight of a bloody, mangled leg…”

-----

A tug on her ear woke the Chiurgeon from her sleep. Of course, she could hardly call it sleep when she’d spent the past sixteen hours alternating between a few hours at bedsides and thirty minutes of rest. Over ten years, she’d learned to catch what rest she could, because at any given moment she could be called upon to save a pony’s life. Sleep was precious, and she’d trained herself to fall asleep the moment her head hit a pillow.

She’d also trained herself to respond to her assistant’s summons. She was up in a flash, head raised and ears perked, listening for anypony that might need her help. Instead of cries of pain, however, she heard the gruff voices of soldiers outside the medical tent’s partition between the patients’ beds and the doctors’ cots. If there were soldiers bothering the other nurses, then that could only mean one thing.

Her day was about to get much, much busier.

Sliding out of her cot, the Chiurgeon spared a moment to brush the ears of her little furry assistant: a small, white rabbit. The rabbit chittered briefly and then hopped out of the way as the Chiurgeon bumbled toward the partition on deathly tired limbs. A wing pushed it aside and she stepped into the main body of the tent, where the smell of blood, bile, and feces struck her like a brick to the face.

Yet she did not flinch at the sudden assault on her senses; it was only part of the job, a part she’d gotten used to. The moans and cries of pain, on the other hoof, were each unique and different. No matter how many times she’d thought she’d heard every possible permutation, a fifteen year old colt with a mangled wing or a middle-aged mare with her leg chewed off would find some new way to twist their cries of pain and agony into something she’d never heard before. After ten years, she’d heard more cries of pain and suffering than she’d ever imagined hearing. Now, she could only wonder how many more she would have to endure.

The commotion at the front of the tent promised that she’d get to sample new ones soon enough. Two of her nurses pleaded with a group of soldiers standing at the entrance to the tent; the Chiurgeon already knew what it was about. Swallowing hard, she tried to squeeze her anxiety to the tips of her wings where it couldn’t shake the rest of her frame. She much preferred dealing with the dead and dying; corpses and the wounded didn’t insult or frighten her as much as the living did.

Still, she was the head Chiurgeon of Army Group Center, so it was her duty to intervene in cases like this, as much as she disliked it. After navigating around a few bloody cots stuffed with mangled soldiers, she gently put the tips of her wings on her nurses’ shoulders and calmly parted them to confront the soldiers herself. “I’m… I-I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?” she said, her voice momentarily hitching. Not good enough. She needed to be stronger.

“We need bandages and wraps,” the soldier closest to her, the biggest one, said. “There’s going to be a fight today.”

The Chiurgeon swallowed, already knowing where the conversation was headed. “A fight? Oh my… how many do you need?”

“As many as you can spare,” the soldier said. “Our field medics need to be stocked up.”

“The field medics should have their own supplies!” one of the nurses spat. “We need everything here to deal with the wounded! If there’s going to be a fight, we’re going to need everything we have here to treat the new casualties!”

“If a medic runs out of supplies on the field, what good is he to us?” the soldier retorted. “Good ponies will bleed out and die if they can’t be patched up enough to even get here in the first place!”

“Changelings target medics first! If we give them all more supplies than they need, we’ll lose most of them during the fighting!”

The Chiurgeon tried to take a deep breath to steady herself. When she released it, her eyes fell on the soldiers’ silver armor, on the dents across its surface, on the rust collecting around the joints. They were veterans, and they were weary. They wanted to go home—just like she did. Nopony wanted to be out here fighting anymore. But they were, and they were frustrated, and they took out that frustration where they could. Unfortunately, that sometimes meant berating the medical staff, even though they were simply doing whatever they could to keep everypony alive.

One of the nurses looked about ready to burst a vessel, but the Chiurgeon extended her wing and brushed back the nurse’s sweaty mane. No words were said; the mere action and a simply look from the Chiurgeon was enough to calm her down. Instead, the Chiurgeon strode forward until she was less than a foreleg’s reach away from the soldier, swallowed down her anxiety, and looked him in the eyes. “Are you feeling better, corporal?” she asked, her voice sweet and caring.

The corporal blinked back at her. “What do you mean? I’ll feel a lot better when we get what we came for!”

“Your side,” the Chiurgeon continued, and she brushed the soldier’s right side with a gentle wing. “Does it bother you still?”

The simple question made the soldier shrink back. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze. “No… no, it doesn’t.”

The Chiurgeon nodded. “I spent five hours operating on it, you know,” she said, nervously smiling at the soldier. “I didn’t take a break because it was too delicate to be left to somepony else. I stitched it back together and changed your bandages every four hours for three days. Do you remember that?”

The soldier didn’t answer her. He didn’t even look at her; shame filled his eyes.

She gently pressed her wing against the soldier’s side for a few seconds more before pulling it away and stepping back. “Let us worry about keeping everypony alive. Let the medics worry about bringing you back to us in one piece. You just worry about staying safe, okay?”

The soldier fumbled for words for several seconds, yet ultimately yielded to a few small nods. “Okay,” he said, turning around and hiding his face from the Chiurgeon and her nurses. “If you say so…”

They left without further argument, leaving the medical staff alone at the entrance to their tent. Instead of relief, however, the Chiurgeon sniffled and walked away, leaving her confused nurses to hurry after her.

“What’s wrong?” one asked, concern painted across her face. “Why are you upset?”

“Because he’s scared,” the Chiurgeon whimpered, her blearing eyes already searching for the comforting sight of her rabbit. “He’s scared and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

­­­­-----­

The commotion outside her tent managed to disturb the Magus from her meditation. The threads of thought she’d been chasing, hypotheses and theorems that could sharpen her magic, fled and skittered to the dark corners of her mind as soon as the noise grew loud enough for her to register it. Growling, she stood up and flung away her incense burners and scrolls in a wave of magic. Didn’t the stick-wielding simpletons know better than to disturb her?!

Apparently not, and now her meditation was ruined. She already knew that she’d only be able to operate at ninety-eight percent of her normal strength, and that two percent could make all the difference in the world. Five ponies would likely die today as a direct result of her interrupted meditation. At least she’d been able to focus for three hours before the noise from the camp grew too much…

But now that her mind had been pulled from the planes of pure arcana, her body began to bother her for its worldly needs. Namely, food and water, of which she had none in her tent. She glared at the flap sealed shut at the far end of the tent. That meant she’d have to go out there into the midst of all the soldiers and other commoners. She’d have to interact with the lowly ponies again. Undoubtedly, some would try to talk to her. Why couldn’t they just understand the basic concepts of mages and how the Poor Fucking Infantry weren’t worth her time?

Tightening her magus shawl around her shoulders and mane, the Magus marched toward the door. “Come, Owlowiscious,” she said, beckoning to the owl resting on its perch in the corner of the room. “We must see the Princess after breakfast.”

Her familiar hooted and jumped from its perch to her shoulder, where its sharp talons clenched into the fabric covering it. Now firmly rooted in place, the owl fluffed his feathers as its master pushed through the tent fabric and emerged into the mid-morning daylight. The Magus momentarily squinted, but the hood of her runic shawl shielded her eyes from the worst of the light. She wondered, and not for the first time, if she should have changed the orientation of her tent to face south instead of east. But that would be a disservice to the Princess, and if there was any pony who deserved to be praised in this whole miserable affair, it was her. A momentary, unpleasant blindness was hardly a price to pay when it came to that great service.

The Magus frowned and trotted across the courtyard, ignoring the soldiers moving left and right as they began to assemble into their companies. Most gave her a wide berth, knowing exactly who she was and exactly how many ways she could end their miserable existence, but there were always new recruits that didn’t yet grasp the way things worked around the camp. To those young ponies, the Magus would forcefully move them out of the way with her magic, picking them up and depositing them someplace else, yet ever careful to prevent her horn and her temper from flaring. Both were valuable assets she needed in peak condition to fight the hive. Wasting them on the fodder of her own side wasn’t worth the effort.

The cooks saw her coming from a ways off—it was impossible not to—and already had her preferred grains prominently displayed for her by the time she arrived. That was always good; it cut out the bothersome pleasantries that had to be exchanged otherwise. Instead, she simply grabbed her plate and pivoted about, making a swift return to her tent.

Unfortunately, when she arrived, she saw another magus patiently waiting outside. The phoenix on her shoulder sang its greetings to Owlowiscious, who hooted in response. The Magus, however, only frowned down her muzzle at her compatriot. “You could at least give me time to eat before we go.”

“You’ll have to eat on the way,” the other mage returned. “The Princess needs us at the war tent. The Major and the others are drawing up battle plans.”

The Magus sighed and glowered at the words. “Ten years and they still don’t know well enough how to make the most of us,” she said, reluctantly turning away from her purple tent and instead moving toward the large tent rising above the army camp. “Just because we have power beyond what they can fathom doesn’t mean our place is in the front ranks with the rest of the fodder.”

“If this war drags on there won’t be much of our order left,” the other mage said, matching the Magus stride for stride. Then, nodding to the tent, she began to pick up the pace. “Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can sort their plans out.”

The Magus hastily stuffed some of her grains into her mouth, knowing full well that she’d be too busy talking and shouting once there to find the time to eat. “If you say so, Sunset.”

-----

The Major had to suppress a scowl as the pair of mages walked into the command tent at their usual nonchalant pace. If she didn’t know better, she would have assumed that they’d simply been held up on the other side of camp, and that was why they were late. But she did know better, and she knew that the hornheads, the magi who claimed to be direct descendants of Celestia’s bloodline, considered themselves above the rank-and-file soldiers. They made everypony else wait on purpose, even when an attack from the Hives was imminent.

“Magi,” she began, letting her annoyance slip into her voice as the two robed unicorns shouldered their way to the front of the circle of officers. “I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you, but we’ve got a battle to plan, here.”

“It would have been much less inconvenient if you could have waited fifteen minutes,” the purple magus, Princess Celestia’s favorite, had the gall to grumble. She stuffed the last of her breakfast into her mouth and made everypony wait while she chewed and swallowed it before speaking again. “My meditation was cut short, and then I had to eat breakfast on the way here.”

“Then I apologize for the Hives’ behavior, but the war doesn’t stop and start at your command,” the Major growled. “Half an hour ago, I received a report from my pickets that Hive activity was increasing around the Twins. An attack is imminent, and we need to be prepared to repulse it.”

“We likely could have told you that much,” the other magus replied. “An attack was all but certain the moment we took control of those bridges. I’m surprised it took them this long to muster for it. We should have squashed them immediately after seizing the Twins.”

“We would have but your firestorm left dozens of my best lancers wounded.” The Major angrily shuffled her feathers and glared daggers at the pair of hornheads standing across the table from her. When the magi decided to take matters into their own hooves, the collateral damage could be catastrophic. And given Magus Shimmer’s fondness for fire, the Major knew that she’d lost at least five hundred ponies over the course of the war due to the unicorn’s carelessness.

It was no small joy to her that the Order of the Magi had dwindled to just a hoofful of ponies over the course of the conflict. Maybe it would be extinguished once and for all with the end of the war.

Before the two ponies could begin shouting at each other in earnest, a soothing, matronly voice silenced them from the back of the tent. “Mares,” it said, and the Major turned away from the magi and toward the towering white figure seated near the table. Princess Celestia’s horn was aglow, perpetually tasked with maintaining the detection spell around the camp that would prevent changeling infiltrators from sneaking into their ranks. The alicorn’s face was weary and gaunt, and her mane hung in sweaty tatters against her neck and face, but never once did she complain. She was the center of the army, its heart and soul, and increasingly the one thing the splintering factions of Equestria’s Royal Army could rally around. A single word from her was more than enough to calm the rising tensions between the Major and the magi and reorient them back to the task at hoof.

The Major sighed and respectfully lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Princess. We’re growing distracted. We have more important things to do.” Even the pair of magi nodded in agreement and seemed to lower their haughty airs for a moment, shifting their critical glances to the map in front of them.

“Indeed,” the Magus said, studying the position of troops in the utmost detail. “Has my brother already left to rally the troops?”

“You know how General Armor prefers to lead from the front,” the Major said. “He left me here to pass on his orders to the rest of the army.”

“So let’s hear it, then,” Magus Shimmer said, adjusting the hood of her robe to free her ears and letting her sweaty, fiery mane fall free. The phoenix perched on her shoulder leaned forward expectantly, mimicking its master’s demeanor. “How are we going to end the war today?”

The Major pointed to a mock up of two bridges stretched across as chasm. “We hold the line at the Twins,” she said. “They’re our foothold into the Hives, and once our reinforcements begin to arrive en masse, we can brush aside any resistance the Changelings could throw at us. But we have to hold the Twins.”

She moved a few pieces around, concentrating several pony figurines around the bridges. “General Armor wants to place the vanguard across the Twins and hold the ground there. Behind them, we’re arranging a second line on each of the bridges to hold them in case the vanguard breaks. If the vanguard does break, it will be up to them to push back across the bridges and reestablish our foothold once the changeling charge has been blunted. Since we control the bluffs and cliffs around the canyon, we’ll be placing our archers and magic artillery on the heights to disperse the advance and hopefully deal with any beasts and behemoths sent our way.”

“Do we know how many beasts they’re bringing forth?” Magus Shimmer asked. “If they charge our vanguard, they could shatter it when they try to retreat across the bridges only to find that there are too many bodies on them to pass.”

“It’s going to be messy,” the Major stated. “They’ll likely send everything they’ve got at us just to break through. Which is why I need you two to help hold each bridge. If they manage to seize one…”

The implication hung in the air, plain enough for everypony to understand. The two mages looked at each other and nodded, pulling their robes back over their heads. “So long as nopony gets in our way, we can hold the bridges,” the Magus said. “But if you’re going to want us to take down the beasts, we need to stay safe from the above.”

“I’ll personally be leading my dragoons in this fight,” the Major said. She eagerly flexed her wings, the air blown off of them ruffling the corners of the map. “You might want to keep those hoods up so no bug guts get in your face.”

“How many?”

The gathered ponies turned to Princess Celestia, and the Major cleared her throat to answer the Princess’ single question she asked before every battle. “We don’t know how many changelings the Hives have, but they likely outnumber us by double,” she said. “We have sixteen thousand soldiers in Army Group Center. If we win today, we may lose four thousand or more.”

“And there is no other way?”

“Not unless you want the war to continue for another five years, your Highness.”

The Princess seemed to deflate and her wings drooped by her sides. The Major had to try hard to smother her contempt. Even after ten years, with victory on their doorstep, the Princess still couldn’t bring herself to order ponies to die for Equestria. She wanted to save every last one of them, but she couldn’t, which was why she’d delegated the war to her generals. But even then, that didn’t stop her from bemoaning every death, as if it was possible to win the war with friendship alone.

What a pathetic thought.

Finally, however, the Princess bowed her head. “So be it. So long as this brings an end to the war and no more of my precious little ponies have to die for it.”

“It will be the end one way or another,” Sunset Shimmer said. “Whoever wins this fight will win the war, I think.”

“Then we won’t lose,” the Magus said. “We’ll win here and all go home.”

The Major nodded. “My thoughts exactly. But now, I need to see to my troops.” She stepped away from the table and bowed to the Princess. “I’ll deliver you the victory myself, Princess.”

“Not if we do it first,” Sunset said, proudly puffing out her chest.

Princess Celestia spared them all a small smile. “I’m eternally grateful to have ponies like you helping Equestria in times like these. Just… do come back to me alive when this is all over.” The Major noticed a twinkle in her eye, but she blinked it away and set her shoulders into a more confident pose. “I feel like we’ve all become close friends this past decade. I don’t want to lose any of you.”

The Major bowed her head again. “Of course, your Highness.” Then, spreading her wings and delivering a crisp salute, she pivoted about and left the tent at a brisk pace. There was too much to organize and too little time to do it.

A lot of ponies would die today… and likely many more than she had told the Princess.

Comments

[Csquared08]

Huh. What a neat AU. Looking forward to seeing where it goes.

[Eroraf86]

Well, this looks interesting.

[BradyBunch]

Count me in for this story!

[RoboRed]

This is a pretty interesting AU so far. And I really like that cover art.

[PuppetXMaster]

my dreams are turning into reality, the story lives! ;-;

[A Predatorial Horse]

Is the cover art per chance inspired by storm light archive?

[PuppetXMaster]

9433367
better to ask the artist, he was commissioned by a person intending to make a story, the guy made 3 chapters then left forever. I initially fell in love with this picture and thought up a story idea, I later found the source of the pic and saw the story in its sad state, so I commissioned a story based around the picture and here we are...but to answer your question I have no idea

[fanreader999999]

Hm

[Bookeater_otaku]

The story look interesting but I really don't like Twilight personality here.

[FOXTrot2]

Ah, war. War never changes. (Sue me, it's appropriate here.)