Chapter 43; Onwards, to victory
James groaned inside his tent. He patted Kiki, but it didn't reduce his sense of foreboding, nor did it stop the fact that a major battle had taken place. The kitten meowed gratefully, then started to wash herself as he put a hand to his head and leaned back in his chair.
Crystal Clear poked his head in. "General, I've got the reports." After looking at his commander's depressed slouch, he said, "I think this is a bad time..."
"No, come back," James said as the pegasus began to withdraw. "I need to hear this. And tell whoever's with you to come in as well."
Crystal, thus encouraged, entered the tent and came to a stop a few feet away, followed by Rolling Barrel and Nightshade. He pulled out a scroll and began reading it. "Enemy is in full retreat. Their right flank fell back, barely breaking through our net, while the left was able to hold out for some time, but inevitably had to break off contact as well. Griffon army has suffered very heavy casualties, between fifteen to twenty thousand. Our losses about ten thousand, with about four thousand... no longer among the living, and most of the rest wounded, with hundreds of severe burns. Ammunition low for small arms, artillery expending over 75% of it's ordinance over the course of the day. Over five thousand prisoners taken during the battle."
James nodded. "Anything else?"
"Yes sir. Numerous guns have to be replaced, and well over a thousand personnel weapons have to be replaced as well, with most of those needing replacement damaged or destroyed by the dragon's fire, along with... along with their owners," the white pegasus finished, visibly shaking over what had happened. "That demon killed a lot of good soldiers, and in worse ways than I could count. Being shot is one thing, but being fried to death... it's torture, nothing else but."
"I don't think I'll be able to escape the images that have been scorched into my brain," James agreed. "I might be able to push them aside for the time being." He took a peppermint stick, and another one for each of his three officers, out of his desk and offered one to each of them. Putting his own in his mouth, he waited a moment for the flavor to reach his tongue before continuing. "What, in you profession view, is the state of the army?"
"That depends on what you're asking," Barrel replied. "Do you want the physical state of the army, the state of morale, or something else altogether?"
"I want to hear about all of it."
Barrel sucked on the stick for a minute before swinging it to the left side of his mouth. "I'd say morale is low in Second and Third Corps, considering the incident with the dragon, though First and Fourth are in good shape. Crystal said it himself a couple minutes ago, we're low on munitions, and it would be nice if adequate miscellaneous supplies were reaching us." He crunched part of the stick and swallowed it. "Wouldn't say no to more tanks and better firearms, if we could get them."
"I have an update on that," James said, reaching once more into his drawer and pulling out a scrap of paper. "Blue Fur is currently working on the new rifle, but found a few flaws in it, primary among them being the fact that it would take an embarrassing amount of time to reload once all eight cylinders were empty. As for the heavy armor, so far, only two dozen have been completed, with five more on the way and seven more on the block. Another type of new rifle is being tested, but as with it's predecessor, it is merely a prototype for now, and cannot be expected to enter service for a while."
"That's stupid," Barrel said crossly. "How long does it take an industrial nation to fully commit to a war?"
"it takes some time, General," James said, sighing. "Especially for a country that has seen no war for over a thousand years."
"Surely there are precedents," Barrel argued.
"In my world, yes. Here... the ancient Pegasi were a warrior race, but back then, industry didn't exist, not as it does today; private artisans and blacksmiths would have produced the necessary tools for war. And they mostly waged relatively short campaigns, which left the need for logistics low, certainly much lower than is the case currently."
"Hmmm," Barrel hummed discontentedly.
"The way is see it, there's two choices," Nightshade said. "Either sit here waiting on logistics, or move ahead with what little we have left."
"That's what it looks like to me as well," Crystal said, not looking very happy. "Hope you have a third suggestion, General."
"Nope, I'm just as dry for ideas as the rest of you," James said, chewing up a piece of peppermint. "We could have it flown in, but ground convoys carry more." He let out an angry sigh. "Either we plow ahead with a couple rounds per trooper, or we sit here and give 'em back the initiative."
"If we don't get what we need, we'll lose the initiative anyhow," Crystal said, and his compatriots nodded.
James took the stick from his mouth and laid it on a napkin on his desk. "Best I can figure is, we got forward as far as we can, without bringing on a major engagement. And, if we're poorly off, you have to consider how badly off they'll be, after getting beaten so badly." He took out a pen and a piece of paper. "I think we all agree on the nature of the dragon's appearance?"
"Yep," Crystal said. "He was definitely hired by the Griffons to fight against us. The dragon inflicted no Griffon casualties as far as we were able to discern, and, from evidence given us by prisoners, he was hired out by the king in exchange for a large sum of gems and gold."
"Swine!" Barrel hissed, at the same moment Nightshade growled, "Scum!"
"Well, he won't get the chance to fight a second round against us as is," James commented, which made the others nod. "If you can, Crystal Clear, spread the word; if it spreads to the right people, if you know what I mean, this sort of thing will be less likely to occur in the future."
"I'll get right on it, sir." The pegasus Guard saluted and left the tent.
"You two," James said, looking at his other two subordinates, "Get this army collected and rolling. Don't stray into a battle, but beyond that advance as far as you can."
"Right." The two soldiers saluted and followed Crystal out of the tent.
James turned back toward his map. It was true the enemy army was in much worse shape than his own, but it wasn't destroyed, either. It could pull back and fight another two or three battles of similar ferocity. Then again, he outnumbered them, allowing for more flexibility.
Their goal was obvious at the moment; hold him out of Trottingham. The forts on the western side of the city had taken the least amount of damage during the fighting there. The enemy would use them against their original builders. Not that they had fallen back that far yet; they would still try to hold him away from there as long as they could. But between here and Trottingham there was precious little ground that offered such a great defensive opportunity. Quite frankly, he wasn't eager to besiege the city. When the Griffons had encircled the town, soldiers and civilians had shared the rationed food. He seriously doubted the enemy would do the same. In starving them out, he would be starving the remaining population even more. A long siege just wasn't an option.
"I guess I could bust out the tanks when we get there," he said to himself. It was an idea, but for now, he had just the vehicles that had been finished. He wasn't confident that a couple dozen tanks could crush the enemy. And, although some units were training with the tanks to properly provide support and be supported, that training wasn't anywhere near finished.
He sighed. It wasn't going to be an easy task, but it had to be done. And, once they'd retaken the city, maybe, just maybe, the enemy would be inclined to accept peace.
And then we can all go home. Oh God, please let it be so. Although he kept his feelings on the matter to himself, he was feeling very homesick. Oh yes, most of his army could say the same, but the difference was that their loved ones were here, in this world; he was separated from his family farther than any number of miles he could count.
"Just have to finish the job," he told himself. It was easier said than done, and he knew it quite well.
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Crystal Clear calmly finished writing the general's next requests and filed them, placing them neatly in a pile. He chuckled inwardly. Most pegasi thought of such a job as a waste of their talents. He ruffled his wings. It had been his special talent since foalhood to organize things nicely and make sure they stayed that way. He just wasn't inclined toward cloud-busting or to racing, as many of his old friends were. He liked having wings, to be sure, but he wasn't about to become a square peg in a round hole. He frowned slightly. Many drill sergeants for the Guard hadn't thought that way, and had tried to ram him down a round hole regardless. They'd been deeply disappointed, and derided him all the more for it.
Some of the training had stuck; he knew what to do with a spear, and how to fly in formation. But he wasn't a great combat soldier. He'd failed a tactics course, and barely passed the weapons course. Eventually, some higher being must have smiled on him, for he was taken out of the rank and file and sent to file reports for higher officers.
It might well have been their way of punishing him as a failure. He laughed out loud a little. If that had been their intent, they'd miscalculated. He'd not only survived, but thrived as an aide-de-camp, so much that he had the actual rank of Lieutenant, if not the authority of one.
He'd earned a nickname for himself in the last fight; Saddleback Samuel. He had no idea where the latter part of the name came in; both first letters of his name were Cs. He knew the name wasn't all that derogatory; many of the soldiers in the army would have been glad to have carried the general into the battle.
Crystal took a canteen of water from nearby and took a drink from it. He'd seen General Lavigne look surprised more than once when the flat bottom of his hard, unfeeling hoof carried something away with it. From all he'd heard, the general came from a place where magic didn't exist, which would have ordinarily meant that this action would have broken the laws of physics.
If that's true, then I wouldn't be able to fly where he's from, because my wings wouldn't do much for me without magic; too small to hold me up on their own. That was a thought to frighten any pegasus, even him. Although he wasn't the most athletic or extraneous flyer, the idea of being robbed of his ability to fly was shocking.
He set the canteen down, noticing a few remaining, shallow holes in his hoof as he did so, reminders of the nails of the horseshoes he'd worn during his training. Those would disappear in time.
Crystal yawned. Today hadn't been too busy, and he was hoping he could take it easy for the rest of the day. All the important work for the day had been done, and so far it didn't seem like more would be coming.
He stepped out of the tent, and heard a voice from the other, more prominent (though not much more prominent) tent nearby.
Well I am a modern haro; m'name is Patty Kearney
Not long ago, I landed from the bogs of sweet Killarney
I used to cry out 'Soap fat!' because that was my trade, sir,
'Till I listed for a soljer boy in Corcoran's brigade, sir
Crystal ran into the general's tent, worried that an infiltrator might have penetrated the camp. All he saw was the general sitting with his legs up on the desk and holding his gun and a rag.
"Yes, Lieutenant? Is there something wrong?" James Lavigne asked, in a voice totally different from the one he'd been using seconds earlier.
"Not so far as I can see, sir," Crystal answered. "I heard someone singing in here and was worried someone unauthorized had gained access to your quarters."
His commander laughed. "Not likely. 'Case you didn't figure it out yet, that was me."
"I know that now, sir. I didn't know using other voices was one of your talents."
"It's not all that hard to do, when you hear other accents and get used to them. I was just singing to myself while taking care of my own sidearm; can't have it malfunction when I go to use it, now can I?"
"No sir. Every weapon should function when you go to use it."
"You were about to tuck in, I suppose," James went on.
"Yes, sir; I've been working all day filing things that needed filing. Unless you order otherwise, sir."
"No, no. Go ahead. I just want you ready to go when we set out tomorrow morning."
"I will be." Crystal looked at the map before correcting himself. "So it's true we're moving out, sir?"
"Oh my, yes. We need to take back as much ground as we can, now, before they reorganize and pull another damn trick on us."
"I thought it was the plan that we would be moving in three days," the pony continued.
"Did you? I don't remember stating anything to happen three days hence. I said I wanted this army to move as soon as possible, and from my brigade commanders, I hear it's possible to begin tomorrow, after breakfast."
"I suppose it's possible, sir. But I've seen the reports, and your requests for more necessary goods; I don't think we can afford to fight as big a battle as yesterday."
"I don't intend to. But what I know is, after a defeat like that, the enemy is in much worse condition. I doubt they'd be foolish enough to challenge us. We might not be ready to fight at the top of our game, but if the enemy fights, we can press our advantage, because we have more soldiers and more munitions, however little, than they. It'll be when we reach Trottingham that we'll really have to worry."
"I hope we can take it quickly, sir."
"I hope so, Lieutenant, for the sake of those still living there; we know how the enemy treats occupied land, and how willing they would be to take all the food and stuff themselves while ponies starve."
Crystal felt and rise of fury in his heart. "We'll crush them. I don't see how they'll have a kingdom after we're done with them."
"Neither do I, Crystal, but I cannot see the future. And, considering the surprises we've had to suffer, I'd say that caution, though not discretion, is sometimes the better part of valor."
"Understood, sir."
"Good." James went back to performing maintenance on his gun, all the while humming the song he'd been singing out loud a few minutes before.
Curiosity piqued Crystal's interest. It sounded like a war song, but not one he'd heard before. "Sir, what exactly is that little number called?"
James stopped cleaning the barrel of his gun and looked up. "It's called, 'We'll fight for Uncle Sam,' first penned in 1862, unless I'm mistaken. Basically, an Irish man immigrates to the United States and fights in the Civil War, with the song being sung in an Irish accent."
"Did you say Irish, sir?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because that is a word used to describe an accent common to sailors and many inhabitants of Equestria and the Griffon Kingdom."
James didn't say anything for a few seconds. "An interesting coincidence," he said at last. "Both our worlds have an affinity for many such things."
"You say that like you know how it came about."
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Best for you to check on a librarian called Twilight Sparkle when this damned war is over."
"The Bearer of the Element of Magic? I doubt she'd have the time to discuss the issue. She's busy solving a problem every other day, or so I've heard."
James shook his head. "I know she would have the time, if you could spare it." He set the gun down. "I need your services as aide-de-camp now, though. Before long, you'll be going back to work again, regardless of where we encamp."
Crystal saluted. "I will perform as my duty requires."
The General nodded. "That's all I require of you. And from every soldier in this army. As long as they fight their hardest, I believe we can win this war. Now, go get some rest. You've worked hard today."
"Thank you, sir." Crystal turned to go, then paused. "How long do you think this mess will go on?"
"Depends on what you mean. If you mean the logistics mess, then I think it will be resolved fairly soon. If you mean the war as a whole..."
"The war as a whole, sir."
James sighed out of his nose. "I cannot predict that with any accuracy. If we destroy their army within the next couple of engagements, it could be over in a matter of weeks. If that doesn't happen, it might drag on for a year or more."
Crystal didn't let the pang of horror spill out onto his face, but his shiver gave away his feelings. "A year, sir!? I thought the... mess would have convince any sane ruler to make peace by now! How could even the king think of dragging it on that long, if not longer?"
"As a monarch, and apparently as a would-be conqueror, he doesn't like the thought of losing his crown, which would happen if he just let us march wherever we wanted. But he also doesn't want to lose prestige, or face, or whatever you would call it, with his own people. And so, he'll drag it on as long as he can, hoping to find a way to beat us."
"That's a terrible thought to have, sir."
"Nonetheless, it is one to take into consideration." Saluting as well, the General added, "Dismissed, Lieutenant."
Crystal returned the salute, and exited the tent. He couldn't help but feel a little relieved. While he'd wanted to know the answer, the knowledge his commander had just imparted on him was shocking. He decided not to bother asking questions for a while.
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James stood before the Griffon prisoner, who didn't look very happy at being caught but ever so much happier than being slain on the field. "What unit are you from?" he asked.
"I'm from the Highwind Clan," the warrior - who was wearing a kilt and had a Celtic accent - replied. "Under good ole clan chief Graywing. What of it?"
"Sir," the gray-coated Guard standing nearby spoke up. "Any units from those lands don't refer to themselves as being in units, but as under a certain leader."
James nodded in gratitude. "What were your orders, then?"
"Gen'ral Grayfeather issues the orders; all I do is march an' fight where they tell me to."
James nodded again, this time in understanding. "How well have you been supplied?"
"Not as well as I wish we were. 'Least ole Graywing don't take more'n his own soldiers in food an' comfort. We dinna have enough to throw you rascals back, though, tha's fer sure." The Griffon looked unhappy. "Great gods in the sky, how did you come up with all this? An' so soon?"
James felt inclined to tell the prisoner that his gods were nonexistent, but he held his tongue. "Never mind," he said instead. "Has there been any dissent in the ranks, or in the officer corps, over the leadership and goals of the army?"
"What?" the prisoner said, looking confused.
"Is anyone saying things against the officers, general, or king?"
"Oh. That." Now it was the prisoner's turn to nod. "Aye. There are rumors - rumor, yae mind - tha the king wants ta tighten control, but then there's always been that sort o' talk. And aye, some o' the officers 'ave been complainin' 'bout where the army is supposed ta go, wha et's s'pposed to be doin'. Brigadiers Barlow an' Raymond 'ave quarreled with ol' Grayfeather, they have, not that they've come better off, mind."
"I believe that," James replied. "Alright," he said, turning to the Guards, "take him on back."
"Right, General. Come on," the Guard said to the Griffon.
As they turned to go, James couldn't resist a small jibe. "Donald, where's your trousers?"
The Griffon turned his head. "M'name's not Donald, and I've neva worn no trousers in tha first place!"
James watched them go, laughing inside his mind all the while.
"I hope we got what we wanted out of him," Barrel said, chewing on a piece of grass.
"I think we have, more or less. I doubt there was anything else of significance he could have told us."
"I suppose we should thank our lucky stars we got anything," Nightshade said. General, if I might make a suggestion?"
"Hmm? You may."
"I request that I take my Lunar Guards and utilize our abilities to their fullest extent."
"I'm afraid I don't fully follow," James replied, folding his arms.
"I'd like to take them on a major raiding expedition, to hit the enemy where it hurts him the most."
James thought about it, but held his pose. "May I ask why you haven't made this suggestion before now?"
"Because before the battle we fought a few days ago, we needed almost every soldier we had concentrated. From what I hear now, though, is our allies will be sending us troops soon, and the enemy's numbers diminished a lot more than ours did in the last fight. We can afford to split our numbers a bit right now, and as you now, we perform better at night than in the light of day."
James scratched his chin (I need a shave, he thought). "I know that for a fact. But I was thinking of saving the Lunar Guard for an offensive begun at night, to serve as a spearhead."
"That's a decent idea," Nightshade agreed. "But I think our talents are best used in nighttime raiding; we can be ghosts just as good as we can be soldiers. I want them to have nightmares about us, then wake up and realize those nightmares are real."
"You don't think small when it come to a physiological assault, do you?" James asked rhetorically. After a few seconds of thinking, he went on, "It'll be hard to keep in touch with you, if I go and let you do this. And I need competent commanders now more than ever."
"I knew you wouldn't want to listen," Nightshade said dispiritedly.
"I am listening, blast it," James replied, a little more heatedly than he'd intended; the thestral's remark hit him all the more because it felt unfairly untrue, and he hadn't wanted to hurt the Night Guard's feelings. "How about this; I'll keep you here, but we'll send most of your party" - he meant the Lunar Guard - "to do what you requested. I'll have a unicorn go along with 'em, to send us the information about their activities and location. I'm sorry if you wanted to go, but I need you personally here; you're too good an officer to lose."
Nightshade thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "If that's what you want, sir, it'll be done. I guess I'm lucky I was able to get a concession out of you, even if it wasn't completely the one I wanted."
"I need as many good officers as I can keep with me, seeing as the war's claimed so many of them already."
Nightshade jerked.
"Oh...! I didn't mean it like that," James said, remembering that the thestral had lost his brother at Trottingham. "But what I said was true, and if I take one in the head myself, I need one of you to take up the job for me, and I can't easily coordinate my forces if they are so far out of contact with one another, even with the system I agreed to set up."
"You getting one between the eyes?" Barrel said, shaking his head. "I never thought that could happen, not to a commander."
"I know better. I thought I was invincible once." James shook his own head. "That thought process is long gone; the Changelings beat it out of me, and I'm lucky to still be here after that mess, let alone this one. That I'm still here is something out of my control all together, and that goes for every one of us in this camp, and that includes the prisoners."
"It gets you thinking, doesn't it?" Nightshade looked east. "How long will this horror go on?"
"As long as it takes to win, Colonel," James answered. "It will not end tomorrow, or next week, and I know it didn't end yesterday."
"That would be funny if only it were funny, if you know what I mean."
"I think I do. For now, let's continue to ready ourselves for the march."
Crystal Clear landed next to him. "The reports you wanted, sir."
"Excellent, thank you." James scrolled down the first sheet of paper. "Good. Allied troops will be arriving to complement our army within a few days."
"Who?"
"You're not an owl, so I don't know why you're talking like one," James answered Nightshade, which got a quick laugh out of everyone. "A three-thousand strong brigade of Saddle Arabians and a 'large" - I'm unsure what kind of number is meant here - force of Zebras."
"Those barbarians?" Barrel said quietly.
"Don't let them hear you say that," James said, and he wasn't the only one to do so. "They haven't been idle, you know," he continued. "Griffon trade down there has been almost completely cut off, and Saddle Arabian navies have blockaded the major Griffon ports."
"What, without a declaration of war?" Crystal asked.
"This says they consider the act of a blockade as a declaration of their intentions, as well as the fact that they've boarded two ships and temporarily interned the crews until the civilians among them can be exchanged."
"I'd hate to have that kind of luck. That of the civilian crews, I mean."
"It strikes me as humiliating, even though they will certainly be released, assuming they do nothing to cause trouble." James folded up the papers and put them in his pocket. "For now, let's just get moving."
"Yes sir!"
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After all the tents and equipment had been packed and breakfast eaten, the army set off after dawn. The morning air was cool and refreshing. The sky was clear of clouds and sun shone brightly on the earth.
The clip-clop of hooves resounded as the column moved. Dust arose from wagon wheels and hoof-falls.
All the while, Bright Star continued to march. His own regiment was one of those leading the march. Whenever he looked back, it was amazing to see how far the bluecoats stretched down the road; he couldn't see the end of the column, that was for sure.
"How far do you think we're going today?" Firebolt asked.
"I don't know," Bright answered. "We've gone a couple miles already, I know that, and I know that won't satisfy the sergeants, that's for sure."
"Yeah," his friend agreed. "I think our legs will be on fire by the time we're through. I really wish we could just take the railroad up to the city."
"I doubt that's a good idea. They'd have done something to stop that."
"Can't argue with that. The Griffons might be enemies, but they aren't stupid, however much I wish they were."
They continued marching for a while longer in silence. Then Bright asked, "How do you think it's going to go? With Zebra and Saddle Arabians at our side, I mean?"
"How should I know?" Firebolt looked surprised he'd asked. "I heard there's one in Ponyville, and she never stops rhyming. What do you want to bet they're all like that?"
"Er..." Bright was fine with a little rhyming here and there, but having hundreds doing it at once...
"I'm not too sure about the Saddle boys either. They wear pretty tack, sure, but that won't help them in a fight. They're better merchants than soldiers, if you ask me."
"Maybe they'll be more than meets the eye," Bright argued. "I don't know much about them, but I know they like big, curved swords."
"And how much will that help them against guns?" Firebolt countered.
"Why would you ask me that? A lot of the battles we've fought came down to swords and spears in the end."
"I remember. Those are the worst." Firebolt shook a little. "It's... different than just shooting at somepony, and being shot at. I'm still in danger, but swords... if one of those gets you... One of my most recurring nightmares has me being beheaded by a Minotaur with an axe big as a house."
"I don't have any quite as bad, but I have them, and they're a lot worse than the ones I had before the war." Bright took a moment to remember his life before going into the Ponyville training camp. "Life was a lot easier then. You never thought things could get as bad as they do."
"That's one assumption I won't be going by ever again. The least I can hope for is that there isn't another big mess like this in my lifetime, and that my foals, if I ever have any, don't suffer anything like this."
"Me too," Bright agreed.
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James was currently sitting on a limber for one of the breech-loading cannons his army had. Basking in the morning light, he wrote in his journal as the caisson was hauled over the road.
One of these days, he wrote, we'll have a proper logistics system set up that will allow us to fight the war with utmost efficiency. One of these days, though, is the problem. We should have already had it set up. As I am only one man, I haven't been able to keep watch on everything all the time, and, unfortunately, Equestria was largely unprepared for the conflict against the Griffons when the war began; through battles against the Changeling horde, we got weapons that worked well enough to turn them on the big birds trying to flood into the - what is this? A kingdom? A Principality? It's not a republic, I know that. Anyway, the quartermasters need a good... reshuffling. Actually, read that as firing about 75% of them and replacing them with ponies who are at least willing to give us what we need, even if less skilled. I don't like firing people, but it's got to be done. I'm sick and tired of them complaining that we're taking too much from them; that's what they're there for, to give us what we need when we need it, and to deliver it on time. Any less is inexcusable and intolerable.
He set down the pen for a moment to give his hand a rest. Needless to say, he'd been pretty steamed lately at the stinginess of the army's quartermasters. He thought something obscenely rude about them, then shook his head and mentally apologized. Swearing at them, in mind or in person, wasn't likely to bring about the results he needed.
He saw a blue pegasus flying toward him in the distance. He waited until the pony, a blue one with a uniform and kepi of darker blue, hovered next to the caisson, saluting as he kept up with the slow pace. "General, sir. I've got a letter for you," he said as he reached a hard, dark blue hoof into one of his saddlebags and pulled out a scroll.
"My thanks." James took it from him. "Who's it from?"
"I don't know. The pony I who gave it to me said it was urgent you get it, though."
"Well, I guess I need to get down to reading it, then. Have a good one, soldier."
"Thank you, sir." The pegasus saluted and flew off.
James pulled off the seal and opened the letter. His eyebrows rose when he saw who'd penned it. "The Princess," he said quietly to himself. He hadn't gotten anything from her since the court-martial.
Dear James,
I'm relieved to hear of your recent victory over the Griffon Army. Although I had no doubt in your abilities, this is a war we're talking about, not a tea party, however much I wish it were. I admit, I am disturbed over the presence of a dragon in the Griffon ranks. I doubt even my powers, without the Elements of Harmony, could easily defeat one, not without cost. I have spoken to a few dragon elders, however, and they assure me that most dragons have no interest (and I mean no interest; my requests for aid were rebuffed, however politely) in the conflict.
I'm sure you're wondering why Shining Armor hasn't rejoined you as of yet. He is currently taking care of something of great importance to the far north, along with Princess Cadence. I apologize, but he will not be joining you, not yet, not until a crisis up there has been resolved.
Assuming this letter does not get captured, I believe it is a fair idea to give you a heads up on my plans to end this war. I need you to take Trottingham. As soon as possible, before the remaining populace suffers too badly. Afterwards, with our army clearly dominant over that of the enemy, I intend to ask the Griffon leaders for peace, with the conditions being a return to the state things were before the conflict began. I know this will be a surprise to you, and probably an unpleasant one, assuming, and I think I am right, that you would advise defeating the enemy utterly. My goal is to end the dying as soon as I can. You don't know how painful it is for me to walk down the streets of Canterlot and hear or see a family grieving. If that goal means letting go of a higher prize, then so be it. If they refuse, and they may, you have my permission to fight and win the war however you see fit, as long as your methods do not break common law and decency (which I again assume exists even in war; it is too bad a disaster not to have rules). Until or unless that happens, though I will try negotiation. Perhaps the Griffons are as tired of the war as we are, and any peace short of our losing anything is acceptable to me.
I have, over your previous objection to the matter, decided to have units of mares trained and brought into the army. While we hold a numerical advantage as it is, more soldiers are unlikely to hurt, and I think can only help our situation. I hope you can forgive me for overruling you here. I will be enforcing this change with strict rules, so that what you fear on that score will not come to pass.
You'll be pleased to know that you are being promoted, as well as your chief subordinates. You are now a Major General, if my knowledge of ranks is correct. Rolling Barrel is given the same rank, though he is still under your command, and Nightshade is now A Brigadier. Other promotions will be going through as necessary and as deserved; our surviving officers, to a large extent, deserve recognition for their deeds.
I hope you will be able to keep in touch. I must thank you for the effort you put for a nation which isn't yours to begin with.
With love, and with hope for the future,
Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria
P.S. Luna has been looking through a book that she claims is yours, but she seems reluctant to discuss the matter further, almost as though she is afraid or shy of me learning something. Can I ask you to please shed some light on the subject?
James lowered the paper. "Well, a promotion sounds good." In truth, it didn't change what he was doing, or going to be doing. He recognized at the back of his mind that Celestia hadn't promised he'd be paid for what he was doing. He acknowledged that fact, then discarded it, as with all the other times it had shown up.
More importantly, Celestia wanted to end the war before it was really won, the way Bush had in 1991, and how Jefferson had ended the war with Tripoli in the early 1800s. If Equestria was outnumbered and in a position where a draw was as good as a win, he would agree with that sentiment completely. His instinct in the current setup was to go on hitting the Griffons until they gave up, or, if they really were that persistent, until they had nothing left to fight with. He could sympathize for the reasons she had for ending it early; although it wasn't anywhere near the most costly war by human standards, it was a very bloody and violent conflict by Equestrian ones. As a peaceful ruler of a peaceful race and country, he could understand why Celestia felt the way that she did. That didn't mean he agreed with it by any means.
"Aw, nuts." It was the politest response to that he could come up with.
As for the units of mares joining... well, Celestia had told him that day was coming. Now it was here. He felt the chivalrous gentleman within him become troubled even so. He couldn't do anything to change Celestia's mind; she was female herself, and she was an absolute monarch, thought - falsely, as he'd said and she'd admitted - to be divine by those she ruled. And what the hell, the numbers would come in handy, so he decided to drop the matter entirely.
The last thing bothering him was the fact that Celestia still wasn't telling him what the hell Shining Armor was doing to the "far north," as the Princess had put it. What was up there to warrant such attention and secrecy?
She trusts you, blast it, so quit worrying about it. She has good reason, whatever they are.
He wasn't going to let the idea of status quo antebellum go so easily, though. He tore a page out of the back of his journal and began to write.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I acknowledge your previous letter, and I am pleased to hear that you are well. That aside, however, I must one thing you listed in it, that being of the decision to end the war before it is truly won. I can list several examples in my head of similar efforts to pull of such a peace. I must tell you, rarely did the side making the offer have reason to rejoice afterward, even if it saved the further effusion of blood at the present moment. Later on, the other side would break the peace and continue being bas idiots troublemakers, often worse than they'd been prior. I understand your wish to end the war, but the truth is that a war can rarely be won unless the opposing power is beaten, and beaten to the point where it can cause no further trouble in the immediate future (immediate future meaning a period between several decades to a century). While this does mean further loss in the immediate, it saves countless lives later on. While I have no power to reverse your decision, I must protest it in recognition of the valiant deeds of the soldiers of this army, your army, and in the knowledge that such a peace would betray their suffering and loss in this war and transfer it to their sons, and to their sons. I mean no disrespect, but I feel I cannot allow this to go unopposed.
Happy you are well. I hope we can tie this war up quickly.
With concern and with hope for you and for the future,
James Lavigne, Major General, Army of Northeastern Equestria.
P.S. To answer your concerns over your sister, I allowed her to borrow a book - no ordinary book, mind you - entailing the faith of my fathers. A book detailing my religion, in open terms. If you confront her on the issue again, show her my letter, or the part explaining, anyway.
He looked it over twice. It looked okay. Hopefully, it could change Celestia's mind. Then again, he was talking about a pony who had lived well over a thousand years. Maybe he was the one who was wrong. He'd been wrong before, and the army had cause to regret his under-estimation of the enemy's means by which to wage war.
You're also contesting a monarch with absolute powers, warned a voice in his head.
So what? he countered. I haven't been ruled by an earthly monarch, and I don't intend to bend the knee before one now, even if she is a friend. I am not a subject, I am a citizen. If some people don't like that... tough.
He folded it up and put it in his pocket; he'd mail it later, after the camp had been set up in the evening. For now, his army was on the march. And if he had his way, it wouldn't stop until it had taken Gryphos and won the war.
"Please, God, may it be so," he breathed. As he got comfortable, he felt the urge to sing.
"Oh, we'll rally round the flag, boys,
Rally once again,
Shouting the Battle cry of Freedom!
We will rally from the hillside,
We'll gather from the plain,
Shouting the Battle Cry of Freedom!*
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Finally someone has the balls to write that in a hie story
4360019 i know right. First time i see that
The females in army and on battlefield isn't really a foreign concept to me...
We have females in army and yet, none of us really have the "gentleman issue".
I'm wondering, how is Greyfeather's reaction when he saw the combined army of the Equestrian, Arabian, and Zebrica(I will call them Zulu's however) marching towards Nottingham(Yeah, I also call Trottingham that) while playing this song:
and what do you mean by "a new rifle"? Is it one of the following?
-Fusil modèle 1866 or Chassepot
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/07/Chassepot-diag.jpg/300px-Chassepot-diag.jpg
-Fusil Gras Modèle 1874 M80
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/47/Fusil_Gras_M80_1874.jpg/300px-Fusil_Gras_M80_1874.jpg
-Dreyse Needle Gun
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/30/Z%C3%BCndnadelgewehr_m-1841_-_Preussen_-_Arm%C3%A9museum.jpg/300px-Z%C3%BCndnadelgewehr_m-1841_-_Preussen_-_Arm%C3%A9museum.jpg
- Fusil Modèle 1886 or Lebel Model 1886
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b3/Model_1886_Lebel_rifle.jpg/325px-Model_1886_Lebel_rifle.jpg
-Gewerh 88
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3b/Infanteriegewehr_m-1888_-_Tyskland_-_kaliber_7%2C92mm_-_Arm%C3%A9museum.jpg/300px-Infanteriegewehr_m-1888_-_Tyskland_-_kaliber_7%2C92mm_-_Arm%C3%A9museum.jpg
-Berthier Rifle
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/43/Rifle_Berthier.jpg/300px-Rifle_Berthier.jpg
Just give me the specs and origin
Yeah! I influenced the story! Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.
P.S. I approve this comment. 4360019
Typo:
I think you need an ending quote here.
Also, great choice to end on.
AAHHHHH!
I've been marathon reading this story for 3 days and there's still 42 more chapters!
Department of Irony
"Battle Hymn Of The Republic" (Union song) was written by a Southerner
"Dixie" was written by a Northerner
Last Known Lincoln Joke
A few days before being shot, Lincoln was at a gathering & the musicians started playing "Dixie". Everyone was startled & Lincoln said "It’s alright. The Attorney General assures me that we have recaptured the copyright "