Horn and Hammer

by Lancer

Chapter 21.5 (Christmas filler present)

Chapter Twenty One and a Half

(Sub-chapter)

Seven hours before the Revenant attack, Canterlot, Equestria

Down by the bottom of Canterlot the sprawling encampment of the Royal Equestrian Army lay, buzzing with incessant activity. Every minute more ponies marched in from across the country. For Pieter it was a familiar scene although the urgency and scale were beyond anything he had experienced. He had been keeping up with the logistics reports; apparently tents were being erected at a rate of one every two minutes, well over seven hundred tents a day and many of them were for the soldiers easily accommodating ten ponies each. By tomorrow though most of the soldiers would have arrived, barely a week before the dog’s coming too.

Pieter weaved through the crowds, ponies trotted past him by the dozens as he marched along the main thoroughfare towards the Ponyville/Canterbury lines. He had grown used to the stares and sideways glances, they were becoming more infrequent to be sure but even when it is just four of twenty then it is still a nuisance, especially considering the sheer number of ponies in the camp.

Still it was of little consequence. Pieter could see the banner for the Ponyville section flying proudly beside those of Canterbury, Appleloosa and Dodge Junction. The light breeze obscured enough of the standards to hide the bottom halves but the regiments names were clearly displayed at the top, blue lettering on a white background. They were all grouped into the same legion, the Seventh Legion. The decision to from the army under the legion system was taken by Luna. It was born of necessity obviously, too few officers to command too many soldiers. Any other system would have meant much of the Royal Guard would have to be folded into a pseudo officer structure thus effectively decimating the only professional pony regiment the Equestrians could call on. All this meant the four towns were a part of the thousand strong legion of ponies camped all around the sector Pieter was in.

He entered the Ponyville/Canterbury lines, heading for the training grounds of the Seventh Legion on the other side. Just as expected the Ponyville contingent were absent, Forlorn had them scheduled for combat training using one of the Empire Halberdier’s as a stand in diamond dog.

Pieter padded his chest searching for his flask. With a grunt of annoyance he realised it had been empty for the last few days. Pieter quietly reminded himself to find an inn or tavern, if possible he would drag Forlorn along too, his fellow captain’s austere nature just begged for Pieter to break it down. The idea brought a smirk to his lips and a flutter to his heart. He had loved such games when he was younger, to break down another’s inhibitions and values. It was not a very noble pursuit, but then Pieter was never a very noble man, not really. Sigmar only values a warrior who serves to protect the weak and to combat those who would wish them harm but above all he values those who fight the servants of the Chaos Gods. In short moral compunction was the reserve of the other gods. The bare minimum was enough to satisfy Sigmar.

Pieter wanted to enjoy life; the ascetic life of Markus Holstein was not for him. He had seduced a Shallyan, started a fight in an Ulrican temple, even stolen from a peasant’s market stall once or twice although he was no longer young and foolish enough to do so, the list went on. Pieter was under no illusions, he was no saint but he enjoyed himself infinitely more and in the end all sons of Sigmar will feast in his halls.

His little internal monologue had carried him through to the parade grounds, a muddy ill-kept patch of ground with fence posts hammered into the ground to mark jousting runs. The area was admittedly large, fifty square metres in diameter with a set of makeshift sheds to store equipment.

On the field itself Pieter could make out the figure of Forlorn behind the assembled ranks of his recruits. Beside the armoured captain stood one of the Empire Halberdiers, a wooden spear clasped against his shoulder as he would with his standard pole arm.

Striding across the grounds he advanced on the rear of the thirty or so strong regiment of earth ponies from behind. He caught Forlorn’s eye pretty quickly, obviously as a result of his height, but his fellow captain just rolled his hazel coloured eyes and concentrated on addressing his ponies. In just his normal clothing Pieter moved almost silently.

He was a mere ten metres from the regiment’s rear when the Halberdier went to make a salute. Seizing the moment he drew on his command voice.

“Stand to attention!”

The assembled ponies jumped or yelped in fright for the most part. They shot off some shaky salutes, holding their left forehooves over their chests. One unfortunate mare turned her head to see just who Pieter was.

“And just what the hell do you think you are doing princess!” Pieter stormed past the rear rank towards the pink mare who very rapidly snapped her head back around to the front, beads of sweat dripping down her the side of her head just below her yellow mane. “You know I have eaten horse before?” he whispered sinking to one knee as he crouched beside her staring intently into her right eye, the giant expressive orb quivering with fear. “You taste stringy. Do not let me catch you breaking formation again, little, pink pony.”

By the time he had passed the front rank he was almost beaming with self-satisfaction. Forlorn merely pursed his lips, a reserved way of showing his dissatisfaction before the troops at Pieter’s actions.

“Good day Forlorn, and to you too trooper” said Pieter to the Royal Guard and Halberdier in turn. They reciprocated the gesture and Pieter dismissed the other man.

“Care to tell me why you’re sending away Trooper Meissen mate?”

“Well you only need one human stand in right? Here I am. Did you forget my friend?” Pieter asked, sparing the recruits behind him a conspiratorial wink. “You owe me a fight.”

A few of the ponies behind him gasped. Pieter caught the worried look of Roseluck from within her training helmet. He was honestly struggling to stop himself from laughing now.

Forlorn was up against a metaphorical wall, his expectation before his command was to accept, but he had to admit in armed combat with wooden weapons he could not hold a candle to Pieter. If he passed it off as just a friendly match then a loss surely could not do much to affect his reputation with the troops.

‘What am I even thinking? Why do I care about something as petty as reputation?’ he thought. With a derisive snort he fixed his comrade with a proud smile. “You’re on Pieter, here.” Forlorn passed Meissen’s wooden sword with a short throw which the man caught deftly.

“What do you say to the wager then?”

Forlorn raised his brow, “Really?”

“First two rounds are on the loser.”

“Oh by Luna’s moon man, I’m not going out drinking. You do know there’s a war on?”

“All the more reason in my experience, come on you’ve accepted already I can see it in your eyes.”

Forlorn could only smile and offer a begrudging nod.

Turning to his recruits he gestured for them to back off and stand at ease, the worried look of a certain cream coated mare caught his eye but he shrugged it off.

The two captains stood a mere ten steps apart from one another. Pieter held the wooden sword, a mimic of a hand-and-a-half style broadsword, levelling it straight at the pegasus opposite. In return Forlorn flicked the wooden short sword into guard and assessed the straps of the buckler he wore over his left hoof.

“Go on Captain Wind!” yelled a stallion from the side-lines; a few more chorused his yell.

With a smirk from the human he signalled to begin.

Instantly Forlorn rose into the air, gaining enough altitude to easily pull out of Pieter’s range. His opponent simply waited patiently, broadsword in guard. The pegasus took the initiative and dove down, shield held before him and short sword kept out of sight behind the buckler.

His attempt to draw out a strike from the human failed and Pieter swatted away the sword strike. Dodging left he was a fraction too late to counter and his backhand swing hit nothing but air in the pegasus’ wake.

With a flick of his wings Forlorn circled back around throwing a quick flurry of blows as he strafed Pieter’s flank. He jabbed and slashed with sword and shield but Pieter had the presence of mind to sway backwards. Again Forlorn veered off to the right this time just as he passed his opponent and lashed out with a back hoof, knocking back the man’s sword.

Pieter immediately launched into a counterattack, smiling all the while despite the soldiers around him cheering the other captain. He followed the pegasus with a lunge forward, grabbing the trailing auburn tail, twisting his fingers in the hair and yanking it back. Forlorn yelped in surprise but kept himself aloft whirling around and managing to parry a swipe with his shield.

The onslaught continued with Pieter working his sword furiously as he sought an opening to strike the head or chest. The wooden hand-and-a-half cracked into Forlorn’s lower knees, knocking them numb briefly. An angry stab forced Pieter to back off but the man kept his fist entwined with the course tail hair, yanking back and forth to keep the pegasus off balance. After back stepping Pieter saw that Forlorn’s short sword could not hope to match his range with the broadsword, it was all Forlorn could do to stay in the air let alone mount a proper attack.

With a final yank towards his chest the Empire captain pulled the pegasus forward and weaved his sword through his opponent’s guard, jabbing the point into the exposed chest. The blow caused the pegasus to flop over backwards unceremoniously, impacting the ground with a thud and the crash of armour.

Forlorn grunted breathlessly while Pieter loosened his hold, letting his friend go free. The crowd gave a collective groan and the concerned mutters of a few soldiers. Pieter once more picked out Roseluck’s worried expression.

“Damn it Pieter, I didn’t know you were such a dirty fighter” moaned Forlorn as he rolled onto his stomach and brushed dust from his blue coat.

“If it is the difference between winning and losing in a fight then gladly, I suggest you cut down your tail Forlorn, it is an unnecessary risk” replied the human, stooping down to help his friend up.

“I like the long tail ok? But I’ll think about it mate, closer to the time of course.”

With a snide laugh Pieter gave the pegasus a friendly elbow and conspiratorial wink. “I know why that is, nothing more said my friend.”

“Oh just get me to the damned pub already.”

“Hey you could invite her?” replied the man, opening his mouth as if to call out towards the group of ponies clustered off to the centre of the training grounds. The recruits seemed content enough talking excitedly amongst themselves not to notice.

With a mad jump Forlorn shot into the air between the man and the group, his eyes wide and pleading with a drop of sweat on his brow.

“Relax, officers do NOT drink with their troops. Not for a long time anyway. But anyway we have to put these ponies through their paces. Get them ready because I will not go easy on them. Make it three rounds and I shall go easy on the mare though.”

“Fine. Sometimes I wonder about you Pieter, sadistic bastard.” The two shared a laugh and as one they turned on the assembled ponies and shouted them into formation.

Author's Note:

Merry Chistmas everyone. Been real busy with warhammer stuff and work so sorry but you're getting a pseudo-chapter. I'll try to get a proper chapter out mid-January.