The Deluge and the Dawn
There was a dull frost hanging in the nighttime air. It had rained earlier that night, just after dusk; a rogue storm from the Everfree that was quickly smashed apart by a sudden onslaught of griffons and pegasi. Flurry had listened to the light drizzle slide down the canvas of her tent. She fell asleep to it.
The alicorn awoke two hours before dawn. For a heartbeat, she wasn’t sure why. Her ears flicked and prickled at the wind coming down from the mountain, from the breathing of her guards outside. Flurry listened to it for a few minutes before sighing and rolling off the bed. Whammy, still wearing the silver tiara, nearly fell over on the cot. After a moment of indecision, she stripped off the jumpsuit and crystal band. A roll of toilet paper, possibly the last roll of toilet paper in the camp, levitated over to her muzzle.
Flurry left the tent with it gently gripped in her teeth.
The crystal colt guarding the tent turned at the movement behind him. “Prin-”
He abruptly clamped his muzzle shut and flushed glittering scarlet; the color pulsed up his neck to his muzzle. Flurry nodded to him, then the other guards, all equally flustered under their uniforms. She didn’t reply around the roll of paper.
The camp was silent, only lit by the lights of a few patrolling sentries. A light mist blew down from Canterhorn, merging with the lingering frost from the rainfall. Flurry Heart trotted to the latrine pits; it was dark enough that she didn’t feel self-conscious about her nubby tail. Her wings extended slightly to feel the cold currents in the air.
She stopped at the north-western edge of the camp, breathing around the roll of paper instead of through her nose. The wind blew westward as well. Another patrol of bat ponies abruptly turned around when they noticed a shield flicker down around the tall alicorn.
I’m not dying like this, Flurry nickered to herself. She was far enough away that a sniper could hit her. After it was done, she tossed the empty roll down into the pit and wiped her hooves on the grass despite the use of her horn. She could see Canterlot above, extending from the mountain. Like every night, searchlights scoured the sky above the mountain, prepared for an attack that would never come.
She could also see the Reich camp below on the Celestial Plain. The forward camp for Army Group Center was thousands of tents, boxes, artillery, anti-air, trucks, and tanks. Tanks most of all. She could see them stretched out in row upon row, little gray shapes in the night, patrolled with flashlights. The griffons had lights on throughout the camp. A few more turned on while she watched, but no screeches or blasts echoed in the wind.
Across the plain, the Duskwood Forest loomed in the horizon. There were a few flashes in the sky above as scout planes clashed, but the sound didn’t carry all the way to the mountain. The alicorn watched with pale blue eyes, then dispelled the shield and returned to her tent. The guards looked away again; she nodded, not that they could see it.
Flurry stood before her cot and Whammy sitting upon it. Before she returned to bed, Flurry Heart breathed deeply and extended her magic, feeling the dagger and pistol with the cot, then the guards’ rifles outside, and far beyond, to the Everfree and Celestial Plain.
She felt the tanks, the artillery pieces, the guns, the planes, the swords and daggers and knives. Too many to count, too many to feel the imprint of their owners. But they were all awake, if that word could be used. The base of her horn hummed.
And she knew why she had woken up, too.
Flurry Heart hugged Whammy with both forelegs, squeezing the poorly-stuffed snail as tight as she could, and left it on the bed. She twisted around to the crate in the center of the tent, pushing the lid aside and sliding back into the jumpsuit. Her horn zipped the black bodysuit up to her neck, and she flexed her wings through the openings.
Whammy watched with button eyes as Flurry Heart slowly put on her armor. The cuirass, greaves, leg plates, and flank skirt whirled around the alicorn as she pulled the straps taut and locked the metal joints together. Her glowing golden horn provided enough light.
The crystal colt shuffled his hooves outside, speaking quietly with another guard. They heard her magic chime in the tent, and the clanking sounds of the armor being fitted together, but nopony wished to disturb her. Flurry flexed her wings, aligning the sharp crystals along her primary feathers. The two knives at the end stuck out when she bent her wings, like Rainbow's prosthetic.
Heavy wingbeats sounded outside the tent, then a hard landing. Flurry saw the shadow through the canvas, but she didn’t need to see the wings fold and tail lash to know who it was. She locked the metal gorget into place around her neck, finally levitating her helmet above her head. It was the last piece of equipment.
“Flurry?” Spike called out from outside. “The guards said you were awake.”
“I am,” Flurry called back in her naturally light voice.
Spike pulled the tent flap back. “There’s…” he trailed off.
Flurry Heart faced him in her armor with the helmet still floating above her head. Her lips pressed into a thin line across her muzzle, and her pale, glacial eyes burned in the gold light from her horn.
The dragon did not finish his sentence. He entered the tent and stood before her. In her armor, Flurry only had to slightly tilt her head to meet his green-eyed stare.
“It’s time,” Flurry whispered.
It was not a question.
“Changeling Armor is lining up outside the Duskwood,” Spike managed. “The Reich is moving to meet them.”
“Dawn,” Flurry said, not needing to elaborate further.
“Yes.” Spike looked up to the floating helmet and raised a claw to grab it. Flurry let him take it; the purple crystal nearly matched his scales. Spike rubbed a talon along the six small prongs around the slot for her horn. “I’m going with Barrel Roller to hold the road,” the dragon rumbled. “In case of a breakout.”
“Good luck,” Flurry offered.
Spike held the helmet between his claws. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I haven’t gotten a response yet.”
“It’s been three days,” Flurry said tonelessly. “You’re not going to.” The dragon didn’t reply, so Flurry continued. “I never expected one. When I was hurt-”
“I lied,” Spike blurted out, clutching the helmet.
Flurry blinked.
“They never sent a letter back,” Spike sighed, looking down at the helmet. “When I asked them to come help you, she never answered.”
Flurry shook her head and the armor clanked. “Why did you lie? Thorax had to have known.”
“I…” Spike bit his lip. He took a deep breath and his tail twisted around a leg. “I wanted you to believe they still cared. I’m sorry.”
He needed to believe they did. Flurry smiled; it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s alright.”
Spike stared past the alicorn, seeing the crowned Whammy and purple crystal band laying on the cot behind her. “Back in the Empire, I said to show the crystal ponies who you are.” He met her eyes again.
Flurry nodded. “This is who I am.”
Spike nodded with the helmet. “It…suits you,” he said slowly, near a whisper. “Twilight never wore armor. None of them really did." He swallowed, suppressing tear in his eye. "Your family would be proud of you, to see you here.”
Flurry exhaled. “They would’ve found a better way.”
“They would have tried to,” Spike answered. His eyes crinkled. “I don’t know if they would’ve succeeded,” he admitted in a pained rumble. “I don’t know if they would have won.”
He smiled sadly down at the helmet. “Twilight had her flaws, too. Ponies aren’t keen on remembering them.”
Had.
“I love you,” Flurry Heart whispered. “You’ve always been my family.”
“I love you,” Spike repeated. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. “I know you can win this,” the dragon growled. He lifted the helmet above her head, and Flurry lowered her horn.
Spike gently lowered the helmet and fastened it with a claw. Flurry’s horn, threaded through the top, spiraled above the other six points. The alicorn lifted her head back up and felt it settle.
“Win,” Spike growled. “Win and come back to us, Princess.”
The Princess nodded back and Spike stepped out of the tent, holding the flap open and to the side. Flurry strode forward, fully armored for the first time before her ponies. The crystal guards stared openly at her with wide eyes. The colt stumbled back onto his flank. Flurry ignored them; she moved through the camp towards the radio tower. Spike followed.
Everyone she passed stopped to stare, some bleary-eyed and shuffling out of their tent, some trying to finish buttoning their uniforms. ELF gray and Nova Griffonian brown mixed with purple and orange armbands. Old, patched uniforms mixed with new as griffons and ponies watched the Princess pass on heavy armored hooves.
Her commanders had gathered under the radio tower, under the sun and moon of the ELF and the Imperial Snowflake flags waving in the brisk night breeze. Sunset, Limestone, and Zecora stood together in ELF gray; Duskcrest, Dusty Mark and Frosty Jadis wore brown. Thorax sat between the groups in a full purple uniform; his head fin tilted slightly.
Fizzlepop stood beside the changeling in sleek black armor, the dual-lightning bolts of the Storm King painted over with the sun and moon. The armored plates shifted with her hooves. The unicorn clearly felt the stares; she looked straight ahead with a clenched jaw, but her ears flicked in agitation.
Barrel Roller, the last of the ELF commanders that followed Flurry from Nova Griffonia, stood behind Dusty and Duskcrest. He wore an old gray ELF uniform, but the purple armband of the Imperial Snowflake. The pegasus nodded to the Princess, flicking his remaining ear.
Thorax bowed as Flurry approached with steps that left hoofprints in the ground. She drew the attention away from Berrytwist immediately. Duskcrest gulped and clasped a claw to his chest, lowering his head and wings in a proper bow. Dusty copied him. Jadis knelt, struggling with her hoof. Sunset, Limestone, and Fizzlepop stared up at her, frozen in shock. Zecora recovered enough to flourish a hoof in a Zebrican bow.
Flurry would have normally chastised Jadis for trying to kneel, but instead she twisted around and surveyed the camp. Ponies, griffons, yaks, and changelings had followed her at a distance, or watched her while they slowly loaded their rifles and machine guns, or prepared the artillery pieces with shells.
Flurry, the first armored alicorn any of them had ever seen, raised her wings and powered her horn. In the pre-dawn, a golden flame burst into light above her and illuminated the camp. Her armor did not shine; the purple crystal absorbed the light above, appearing to roil with an inner sea of flame. The crystals in her wings chimed as she extended them to their full width.
The alicorn took a breath. “You can fight for me,” she began, and her voice rolled through the camp and across the mountain. “You can fight for Equestria, for the Empire, for friends, for family, for hope, for revenge, for yourselves…”
The golden ball of fire pulsed.
“I don’t care what you fight for, as long as you fight!”
The orb exploded into a shower of blue sparks that rained down above her, dissipating into the night. Spike curled his claw into a fist and beat his chest; a chorus of stomps echoed through the camp thrice. Flurry glared down at her officers. “Field Marshal Berrytwist, you have command.”
“Princess,” Berrytwist dipped her broken horn.
Flurry’s horn charged as she extended her wings. She vanished with a crackle of magic, reappearing in a bolt above the western edge of the camp. The alicorn could not properly fly in the armor, not without significant exertion, but she could glide. Flurry caught the downdraft from Canterhorn and flew towards the Reich encampment. Her ponies watched her.
Lights spread throughout Army Group Center; distant figures flew low to the ground, just above the tents. Flurry’s ears twitched in the helmet, buzzing with the sounds of hundreds of engines starting and screeched commands. At the edge of the camp, a sentry spotted her low, gliding approach and raised his rifle, squinting into the darkness.
“Identify yourself!” a young, hawkish voice called in Herzlander.
Flurry landed hard and her hooves dug furrows into the ground. She shook the dirt from them before moving forward on hoof. The sentry, a storm black griffon, dropped his rifle as the alicorn emerged out of the night. His two comrades, having come at the sound of his challenge, lowered their rifles and backed away with wide golden eyes.
Flurry Heart strode up to them. Long-legged and large-winged, she was a head taller than any griffon in the armor. Her pink horn, spiraled to a sharp tip, added another head of height. Flurry did not break her stride to speak with them.
“Field Marshal Elias Bronzetail?” Flurry requested in soft Herzlander.
Rather than reply verbally, the black griffon pointed a shaking wing further into the camp. He backed away, grabbing the fallen strap of his rifle and pulling it from the path of her hooves; the armored boots left indentations in the ground from her weight.
Silence spread while she walked through the Reich camp. No griffon challenged her, and the Aquileian mage units stared blankly with dimly glowing horns. None of them cast a spell. Flurry let the detection spell pulse through the camp for them. For once, not a single Reich soldier tensed at her magic blowing through their feathers.
The tents grew nicer and larger as she walked in the indicated direction; the camp seemed to be divided between the conscripted Reichsarmee soldiers, the officer core, and the knightly orders. Some servants, a few only in winter scarves and otherwise naked, stopped amongst the tents to watch her pass. She nodded her helmet to them, but ceased when one female griffon nearly fainted.
Flurry followed a distant voice, a male griffon speaking into a microphone near the first line of tanks. Mechanics hopped through the air, preforming last-minute inspections and repairs. A few paused to watch her, flapping their wings to stay airborne. The alicorn was easily spotted. The engineers were shrieked at by officers, who flew up to them with squawking beaks, but also stopped to watch her trot below them.
Just before the first line of tanks, a wooden stage had been constructed on low log pillars. The black, roaring griffon of the Griffonian Reich hung above the stage, strung-up by two turrets facing backwards on the line of tanks. Hundreds of knights knelt before the stage with wings and beaks pressed to the ground, already fully armed and armored. Helmets rested at their claws.
Flurry didn’t see Bronzetail; her overall height let her look past the rows. Probably near the front, she assumed. Atop the stage, a line of two dozen knights with gilded armor stood at attention behind a griffon in a long, flowing gray robe and a high-crested miter atop his head.
The robe obscured the griffon’s body completely, except for his white wings. When he raised his claws to the sky, the sleeves slid down and exposed armored gauntlets. A priest, Flurry connected. The ponies of Equestria never had any true organized religion, not even for the Princesses.
“We fly forward, guided by Boreas,” the griffon pronounced into the microphone. His harsh voice resonated across the crowd. “Nurtured by Eyr, and tempered by Arcturius,” he continued, finishing some prayer. Flurry unfastened her helmet and removed it. Her horn glowed in the back. “May your steel be sharp...”
The griffon paused and blinked at the flash of magic in the crowd. Flurry was tall enough to stare back. Some of the knights in the back row heard the chime and turned to look over their wings. When the priest lowered his claws, the rest of the audience began to look behind them.
Flurry set her helmet down and stared forward at the stage; she didn’t meet any of the eyes boring into her. In the front row, Bronzetail reared up onto his hind paws, holding his brown officer’s cap in his claws. Flurry extended a wing and waved at him. The crystals in her feathers sliced through the air and produced a sound like a wind chime.
Bronzetail vanished, falling back onto all fours.
“May your steel be sharp,” the griffon onstage repeated into the microphone, “and may our ancestors guide the wind under our wings. Blessed be Arcturius.”
The crowd turned back around and dipped their beaks. “Blessed be Arcturius,” they intoned. The knights grabbed their helmets and slowly parted, gaining distance to flap their wings and fly to position. Most waited for a griffon in the front row to depart and followed him, a knight-captain leading a war flock. Several uniformed officers flew towards the camp. Those that did slowed when they passed over the alicorn.
Flurry moved towards the stage through the gaps in the crowd. Her half-folded wings fluttered while her helmet drifted in a golden aura above her back. The remaining knights were too disciplined to whisper, or they were too stunned.
Elias Bronzetail waited in a surprisingly simple dark tan uniform. The griffon had eschewed a coat and even sleeves, standing in the chill air with a flicking tail and wings. He took a deep breath as the alicorn approached, but did not offer any welcome.
“Field Marshal Elias,” Flurry greeted him in Herzlander. She nodded to the priest onstage. “I apologize for interrupting your…” she searched for a word, “sermon.”
The priest hummed and brushed his robe back from the gauntlets on his claws. “Do you know who I am?” he asked with a raspy voice. The griffon did not appear too old, perhaps a decade older than Bronzetail, but his harsh blue eyes shimmered with experience.
“I do not,” Flurry answered.
“I am Archon Proteus III,” the griffon proclaimed, “chosen to represent Arcturius on this world. He is the God of War, the Giver of Strength.” He held out a claw onstage. “Is your armor enchanted, Princess?”
“Yes.”
He flicked a talon, gesturing to the floating helmet. “Arcturius oversees metallurgy as well. I suppose crystal is close enough.”
Flurry levitated it towards him. “It’s heavy,” she warned.
The Archon rolled his eyes and grabbed it from her aura. The helmet immediately slipped from his claw and crashed to the wooden floor, breaking through the boards and wedging itself into the platform.
The knights behind the Archon tensed with flared wings. Bronzetail and the few griffons left from the crowd flinched at crunch of wood. Flurry scrunched her muzzle, waiting for a response.
Proteus squawked and shook his claw with a laugh. “Fuck me, you weren’t joking,” he commented in Herzlander.
Bronzetail’s eyes widened and he gaped up at the stage.
Flurry hesitated, trying to find a response. “I’m sorry?” she apologized, clearly confused. Her ears twitched around her shaved mane.
“Just so,” Proteus waved his claw down at her, accepting the apology. “I would offer you a blessing,” he said wryly, “but you seem to already have a patron.”
Flurry arched a brow, tugging her helmet free of the wood with a flick of her horn. “What does Maar even represent? I thought it was war.”
“Death,” Archon Proteus corrected. “Represent him well.”
Bronzetail made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Proteus glanced at him. “Words are wind,” he intoned with smirking blue eyes. “What are prayers, if not words to the Gods?” He raised his arms again and waved two knights forward with an irritated wing flap. “Get me out of this thing.”
The knights stepped forward and helped the griffon out of his long robe. One left with the hat and another stepped forward with a snarling helmet, shaped like beak frozen in a roar. The Archon was wearing full plate armor underneath the robe; it was dull gray and hummed with enchantments.
The Archon accepted the helmet, but set it down at his claws. His cheeks twisted into a smirk. “I came a long way from Yale for this. The call has gone out across Griffonia.”
“What call?” Flurry asked. She put her own helmet back on after shaking it free of splinters.
"Ah." Proteus clacked his beak. “I suppose you have been encamped. Ensure the Princess hears today’s speech,” he ordered to Bronzetail.
Bronzetail nodded reflexively.
A knight stepped forward, reverentially holding out a gilded assault rifle. Another stepped forward with a greatsword. Proteus clipped the sword to his back first, sheathing it between his wings. The pommel was shaped like a hammer carved out of marble. Proteus checked the magazine of the assault rifle before slinging it under his right wing.
Flurry scrunched her muzzle up at him. “What kind of priest are you?”
“The fun kind,” Proteus responded. “I didn’t fly from Griffonia to miss this. Erion and Gabriela can spar across a table.” He flicked his tail.
“After all,” Proteus said ruefully, “we can’t expect the Gods to do all the work.” He flipped the helmet on and turned around to the knights, rearing onto his paws with flared wings.
“Arcturian Order!” the Archon screamed. “In war!?”
“Victory!” the griffons screeched and pounded a fist against their chest plate.
“In peace!?”
“Vigilance!”
“In death!?”
“Sacrifice!”
The Archon took to the air with a war cry and the knights followed. Flurry numbly watched with Bronzetail. He’s a religious leader? She shook her head in lieu of lashing her tail. This explains so much about griffons. Flurry clicked her tongue and looked down at the Field Marshal. “Where’s your tank?”
The Field Marshal slowly put his cap on. “Follow me,” he said bluntly. He walked on all fours rather than take flight, pacing around the stage to the rows of tanks.
“What was the Archon talking about?” Flurry asked. Bronzetail’s presence counteracted the alicorn in terms of staring. Griffon hurried to resume working. Flurry sniffed at the exhaust fumes from the engines and shook her head.
“You’ll understand once the speech starts,” Bronzetail said over his shoulder.
“Who’s Erion?”
“The Archon of Eyr,” Elias explained slowly. “The conclave has yet to choose another Archon of Boreas after Eros, probably deadlocked without the Kaiser in Griffenheim.”
“Is that bad?” Flurry asked. They moved around a tank with a mechanic rapidly scrubbing one of the gears in the treads.
“It is the situation.” Bronzetail lashed his tail. “As is this.” He turned a questioning eye back to her as he kept walking. “Why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could be with your army,” Bronzetail stated. “You could be in a plane. You could be anywhere. Why choose to be here?” The griffon abruptly flapped his wings and leapt up onto a tank.
It looked like all the others, painted black and gray with a long barrel and square turret. Orange stripes ran down the barrel. A heavy machine gun was bolted onto the back, near the hatch. There were more portholes with additional machineguns sticking out from the sides, above the armored skirt that protected the treads.
“Grendel,” Flurry nickered.
“A tank destroyer with piercing shells,” Bronzetail explained. “I’m surprised you remembered the name.”
“Named after a griffon slain by a pony,” Flurry recalled.
“The Kaiser chose the name,” Bronzetail countered. He pulled the hatch open with a gloved claw before glancing down at her. “You did not answer my question.”
Flurry exhaled. “I can kill more here, not on the mountain. Or in a plane.”
She bent her legs and leapt, clearing the side of the tank and landing behind the turret. Her hooves clanged heavily onto the metal; the entire chassis rocked slightly.
Bronzetail slid down into the hatch paws first, folding his wings. He remerged after a moment, fitting a radio headset with a glowing crystal underneath his hat. “Comms check,” he coughed into the microphone at the end. It pressed against his beak.
Flurry leaned her forehooves atop the back of the turret, near the hatch and machine gun. Leaning forward, Bronzetail could look to his left. He did so, staring up at the bottom of her unarmored pink jaw.
“Do you want a headset?” he asked warily. “We don’t have one shaped for a pony, but-”
“It will melt,” Flurry interrupted. “To my head.”
“Is…” Bronzetail paused. “Is that a common issue?”
“Not for most unicorns.” Flurry scuffed an armored greave on the gray paint. “I’m going to scorch the paint off,” she warned. “Do you have frost enchantments inside the chassis?”
“We have air conditioning,” Bronzetail answered. He showed his bare arm. “It isn’t very good.”
“Tell me when you want frost spells. Four are inside?”
“Yes, not counting myself.” Bronzetail gave her an even look. “How did you know?”
Flurry shrugged a hoof as her horn dimmed. “They know I’m up here, right?”
“I briefed them.”
“Should I meet them?”
Bronzetail stared sullenly up at the massive, armored alicorn riding atop his tank. “Better that they not,” he squawked in Aquileian. Her hooves left slight dents in the metal from the leap. "They know you're here."
The tank to the left started up; the barrel and turret rotated slightly as the crew ran final checks. An orange griffon leant out of the hatch and raised a claw to Bronzetail, who returned the gesture. He had to lean forward to be seen from around Flurry’s forelegs.
“What’s the plan?” Flurry asked. More of the tanks began to move their turrets along the line, running final checks and preparations.
“We counter their advance and push to the Duskwood,” Bronzetail explained, holding a claw over the microphone. “Ignatius commands the left flank; Thundertail the right.”
“I wasn’t impressed with either of them,” Flurry responded.
“They were equally unimpressed by you,” Bronzetail quipped back in Aquileian. “Thundertail has harder terrain, all the way up to your shield wall, but he’s a better commander. Ignatius can hold the left. We just have to outmaneuver them. Once our air force wins, we can cut them off beyond the forest with air support.”
“Sounds simple.”
“War is never simple,” Bronzetail answered flatly. “It took many months to reach this point, weeks of preparation and logistics.”
“Trimmel outran Luna,” Flurry switched topics.
“We’re not facing Trimmel,” Bronzetail stated. He paused to listen to something in the headset, then resumed. “Hive Marshal Synovial only holds his position because of Trimmel’s death. Our tanks are better. We invented tank warfare.”
“Seems strange for a race with wings to invent metal boxes,” Flurry commented.
“The knight banners are here,” Bronzetail clacked his beak. “You can see the resemblance between our armored knights and our tanks. We don’t have fancy magic shields; we rely on armor.”
“Do you want a fancy magic shield?” Flurry snorted.
“It will limit our maneuvers,” Bronzetail answered seriously. He disappeared back into the turret.
“It will move with me,” Flurry mumbled under her breath.
The very first rows of tanks began to move forward, breaking into lines to travel down the Celestial Plain. The plain was once the most fertile farmland in the Equestrian heartland, catching the rain and sun from Canterlot on a daily basis. The fields were bare; dead, overgrown grass laid frozen flat.
Under the faint light of a half-crescent moon, the tanks began to advance onto the plain. Flurry adjusted her hind legs as Bronzetail’s tank began to move, joining a line of tanks moving east. Several additional lines ran along either side, hundreds of armored vehicles.
Thousands, Flurry reconsidered. The lines stretched beyond her vision, even when her eyes glowed with a night-vision spell. Trucks moved behind the tanks, carrying more griffons and supplies. A griffon in a brown uniform flapped up from behind, carrying a radio pack in her claws. She was easily able to overtake the line of tanks, turning her head as she looked about. Her wings flapped unevenly when she made eye contact with Flurry Heart. With visible hesitation, she flapped down to the tank and landed on the turret.
She swallowed. “P-princess?”
Is there another pony riding a tank? Flurry snarked in her head. “Yes?” she said out loud. The griffon set the radio down with trembling claws, eyes shrunk to pinpricks at the alicorn.
Bronzetail poked his head back up from the hatch. “That will be all,” he waved a claw. “Dismissed.”
The griffon leapt off the tank, almost hitting the ground before flaring her wings and flapping away, back down the line. “What was that about?” Flurry huffed.
“I asked for a radio.”
“Don’t you have one?” Flurry tipped her horn at his headset.
“For you,” Bronzetail clarified. He snagged the pack’s strap with an outstretched claw and dragged it to the hatch. Setting the radio upright, he fiddled with the dials. The radio burst into a whine of static. Elias checked his watch and disappeared back into the tank.
“Kaiser Grover VI of the Griffonian Reich,” the radio crackled, a female announcer speaking in Herzlander. “The Kaiser of Griffonkind addresses his Reichsarmee from the field of battle. Blessed be Boreas.”
The radio rattled slightly atop the turret. Flurry heard the echo of the speech from inside the tank as well, and the griffon leaning out of the hatch on the tank in front of her pressed a claw to his ear. It must be going out to every griffon.
“Griffons are no strangers to war,” Grover began, and Flurry immediately noticed he was pitching his voice deeper and more authoritative. “After all, we’ve been fighting ever since the Gods placed us upon this world. We carved our way across the continent until it was named Griffonia. We invented the halberd, the musket, the tercio, the tank. War is all we know.
“And when we ran out of enemies to fight, we fought each other. We fought for land. We fought for ideas. We fought for false idols and false gods.
“We fought until Boreas charged my ancestor to unite us. Grover the Great flew forth with the Idol of Boreas and united our people for the first time since Arantigos over a thousand years ago. My ancestor built the greatest empire the world had ever seen.”
The tanks continued moving in lines. Flurry could hear the speech reverberating from several others. They passed by a forward scout camp. A dozen griffons sat around a radio propped up on an empty barrel while cleaning their weapons.
“We have no equal in war," Grover continued. "It took griffons to almost destroy the Griffonian Reich. A generation ago, the world watched as my ancestor’s empire burned. My father barely retained his throne, only to rule over a shattered, crippled empire. And in those ashes and embers, Chrysalis came to us.
“The so-called Queen arrived a failure. She failed to take Equestria, driven out and back to the Changeling Lands, a nation fractured into competing hives. She looked to us, to our knights and our tanks. Because even broken, the Reichsarmee was still the best in the world.
“And changelings are imitators. Imposters. They strike from the shadows with deception and illusions. They do not know war as we do. She came to us with a fanged smile and offered her help to defeat our enemies. And at our weakest moment, in our darkest hour, we faltered.”
There was a long pause.
“We accepted,” the griffon snarled over the radio. “Chrysalis took the lessons that our ancestors died to learn. She took our language, our weapons, our armor, our entire way of war. She named herself Queen of the Changelings; she built her Hegemony in the shadow of our wings. Everything she has ever accomplished is owed to us, and now her changelings claim to be the masters of war.
“Queen Chrysalis will never content herself with Equus. Her ravenous horde will devour the continent and she will look towards Griffonia, standing at the head of an army we allowed her to create.” His voice turned slightly sad. “An army that we helped her create. The very existence of her empire is the greatest sin we have ever committed, against our ancestors and a mockery against the Trinity.
“There is only one way forward,” Grover’s tone hardened. “The sin was ours, and it is ours to correct. I am here on this continent to ensure it. With the blessing and agreement of the Archons, defeating the Hegemony is the will of the Gods.”
There was a pause, and Flurry imagined Grover taking a breath and stilling his wings.
“On this day, I declare the Second Grand Crusade!”
A keening war cry echoed from above Flurry Heart and the line of tanks.
She looked up, feeling the helmet bump against the gorget around her neck. Thousands of griffon knights were flying above, banking off to wait for the armored lines to crash together on the plain. Dozens near the front carried war banners that flapped below them. The cry echoed up and down the flock as knightly orders that were established in the first Grand Crusade centuries ago finally fought in another.
“My griffons,” Grover implored, “what I ask of you now is not an easy thing, but it is necessary. We do not wait for our enemies to reach our lands. We do not wait for them to strike. We fly forward on swift wings, bearing sharp claws. The eyes of the world are upon us, waiting to see who is better at war. If we falter again, our enemies will descend upon the Reich.”
Shadows passed above the flying knights, blocking the stars above and swirling through the clouds. Masked by the rumble of the tank engines, the roar of tens of thousands of planes hummed in the sky. The silhouettes began to blot out the stars.
“The Changelings believe they are the greatest army in the world.”
Bronzetail’s tank passed by a field hospital; the canvas tent was still being raised.
“Today, we prove them wrong.”
The lines of tanks began to break, reaching the open plain.
“Today, we shatter their fangs on our steel.”
The smaller tanks fanned out, short turrets looking to the sides and guarding the flanks.
“Today, we clip their wings and send them to the ground.”
The heavier tanks spread out into rows, moving in practiced order.
“Today, we drive them back to the withered heart of the Hegemony.”
Behind the tanks, trucks arrived towing artillery pieces, anti-air guns, and more ammunition. Griffons that had flown above the trucks landed and quickly unloaded, forming more supply camps.
“And today, we prove who is better at war!”
A piercing screech, echoed by thousands of griffons, spread through the rows of armor.
“Fly forth, in the light of Boreas, and restore Hope to Equus!”
Flurry snorted and chuckled slightly. Guess I’ll have to take what I can get.
Bronzetail’s tank stopped in the third row from the front. The engine idled, thrumming with power under her greaves. Flurry licked her lips and flexed her wings. The crystal knives at the end of her feathers sang from the movement.
Elias’ cap appeared from the hatch and he absently clicked the radio pack off. Rather than pull it into the tank, the griffon pushed it off the side of the turret, where it fell to the ground. He leaned his elbows against the rim of the hatch and stared west.
“I thought you’d be excited,” Flurry commented.
“Are you?” Bronzetail asked quietly.
“They’re not my gods,” Flurry shrugged her wings. "Isn't Mudbeak cutting off the south?"
"Millions of griffons are fighting along the frontline," Bronzetail replied, "but it does not matter what happens elsewhere. Only here."
Flurry frowned into the horizon. "How did the first Crusade fail?"
Bronzetail tapped a talon on the gray metal, listening to reports from his headset. “The first Grand Crusade nearly won,” he suddenly began. “We pushed the ponies through the Riverlands, nearly to Nimbusia. The Gods were with us then, until Grover II fell to a spear. A mortal griffon, in the end. The army broke.”
“Grover’s far from the front.”
“For now,” Bronzetail agreed, “unless we get pushed back. Grover III spent his entire life stabilizing his father’s empire. The Riverlands were forgotten, no matter what they claim now. If we fail now, the Reich will burn."
"It was already going to," Flurry responded.
Bronzetail did not disagree.
Flurry watched thousands of black dots rise in the westward horizon. The Hegemony’s air force swarmed into the sky to meet the Reich. The low hum in the air intensified. Reverberating bursts of gunfire began to ring through the open air as the largest air forces in the world started to duel ahead of the sunrise. The Celestial Plain remained silent.
“His body never left the field,” Bronzetail said quietly. “Grover II was buried in the Riverlands, far from Griffenheim. He wanted to be buried with Guinevere.”
“You have a wife,” Flurry remembered.
“Yes." Bronzetail closed his eyes. "And a cub. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
My family or my throne. “I’m not leaving the field either,” Flurry whickered. "I win here or I die."
Bronzetail removed his cap and ran a talon over the pressed symbol of a roaring griffon on the front. “I’m told that some ponies believe alicorns are gods.” He squinted up at her with light brown eyes. “That they pray to you.”
“Some do,” Flurry confirmed. “It’s not true, though.”
“Do you hear their prayers?”
Even before dawn, the sky to the north of the Celestial Plain shimmered with faint pink light. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, the Crystal Heart burned with inner fire and echoed with the voices of thousands of ponies. Some would die today, and some had been dead for thousands of years.
Her mother was one of the voices.
Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
“Sometimes,” Flurry spoke down to the griffon. “I do.”
Bronzetail slightly nodded, then let his cap slip through the talons on a claw. It fell off the side of the turret and landed somewhere on the ground. He adjusted his headset and smoothed down the gray and black feathers on his head. His beak moved silently in a prayer.
Flurry felt the sun on her wings. She turned around on the back of the tank, lowering her forelegs from the turret. There were two additional rows of heavy tanks behind her, and the griffons leaning out of the hatches stared at her. She did not stare back.
Her icy eyes gazed above them, to the east. Celestia’s sun slowly stretched into the sky, radiating with the light of Boreas. The rays shimmered around Mount Canterhorn, framing Canterlot in shadow. The city was visible from the Celestial Plain as the sunlight ignited the horizon. Canterlot hung from the side of the mountain, looming over the battlefield. Below it, her army readied to fight for Equestria.
It was a dawn like any other.
Twilight Sparkle will die first.
Flurry Heart did not remember the last time she met her aunt.
Bronzetail twisted his head. “Do you see something, Princess?”
Flurry stared at the sun through the slits of her helmet, unbothered by the glare. The purple crystal soaked the sunlight and swirled with subdued patterns of flames. The six points around her horn flickered in the rays of light like a crown.
“No,” Flurry Heart answered quietly.
The last true Princess of Ponies turned around.
She placed her hooves on the turret.
And waited.
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I have no words to express how hype I am.
And so it begins, let the God of war and the God of death guide this alliance to Victory, and may the cost of said Victory be minimal today and in the days to follow. May the Hegemony be left with ash and death for their tastes. LONG LIVE THE EMPORER!!! LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS!!! AND GODS WILLING LONG LIVE HARMONY!!!
You know the chapter will exceed expectations when it has a name. What has to happen will happen.
Goosebumps.
Congrats Flurry, you've avoided the fate of Aurelian!
Wow, this is such a great chapter. I am both excited and sad that it feels like it's close to the end. I feel like there is more to the crystal heart that may need explaining . Anyway, can't wait until the next chapter!
By any chance did you use Prescott's speech from Gears of War 2 as the basis for Grover's speech? It hits a lot of similar beats and the wording is almost the same in some areas.
Man. Can't wait to see that green bubble!
11490884
Yes. I posted the soundtrack for it on the Equestria at War discord. I'm usually on there after a chapter posts.
It's a good propaganda speech. Grover can't exactly sell "We need to help the ponies," but he can make it a religious holy war with that "prickly griffon pride" on the line. He did manage to slip in a little line about Flurry at the end with Hope.
This chapter can only be described as a piece of art.
…
I have no other way to express of how good this chapter is.
Damn you Indigo, the cliffhanging is extreme!
Anyways, I am rapidly vibrating with several kinds of hype and am going to go full When + 2 weeks on you™️
It's begin boys, it's fucking begin.
The death of one will not stop the death of millions.
Chrysalis is about to figure this out the hard way.
Long live the reich.
Long live the crystal empire.
And all hail the princess of pony's!
As much as I want to see it, I doubt that we will see a climactic battle between Flurry and Chrysalis here. It just does not fit the latter's personality.
Maybe a literal decapitation of local command assets. Something planes can't be counted on to do.
11491253
More likely to happen in vespolis for a final confrontation.
So, the legacy of Joshua Graham lives on.
The eyes of the world are upon us. Eisenhower said almost the same just before D-Day. The world watched and prayed. Now Flurry hears the prayers. I dint think Celestia or Luna does anymore. They sit and wait because being immortal means this too shall pass.
Everything passes, it takes courage to throw yourself into the fire to alter events. For the Future.
Forward In the name of Boreas, Eyr and Arcturius! In the name of the Kaiser! FORWARD!
Anyone else notice how this chapter has exactly 6,666 words?
11510494
It's a bit harsh, but Flurry's young in this chapter, comparing Gaelic to German.
11510639
It's the Star Wars logic. Magical laser travels slower than a bullet. Why?
11510654
Reminds me I need to keep sweeping through the previous chapters. Thanks!
11510703
Hey man, are you doing ok ?
You didn't update story for quite a while, are you alive?
11511373
Kemerskai can have more than two hats (but I will fix this one.)
11511479
That is part of the reference, yes, and they are desperately trying to explain to Flurry how insane that plan is, hence the tautology.
11511424
I might joke that "less than a month" is a long time for my updates, but I'm taking my time for the battle.
11511503
That's great, you now there's a lot of good stuff in this sit that died.
I don't want this to be one of them.
Tell us where we can find you, and see what your doing, please.
11511503
Take your time, you can't rush quality.
Flurry, grover, spike, thorax and bento ; one more and they can friendship really hard (maybe).
well...Update?
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Be more patient, the author wants to provide us with a valuable chapter. It'll be probably a Magnum Opus of this story.
Waiting patiently.
Hey, not mean to be weird but could you finish the story before ww3 starts.
Hmm
Almost sure it's dead now.
11533820
Nope. I'm writing the entire battle before I begin to post it.
It's very, very long, and broken into segments.
It is over 40,000 words.
11535282
I know I shouldn't ask, but I have to. Have you finished writing this battle? Are you nearing the end?
11535282
Jesus tap dancing Christ
40,000k Words
how does one keep focused for that amount of words.
11535282
If I were near you,I would have given you a massage for free boy.
This is unrelated to the chapter but I found this image (made by Opal Radiance) which fits this fic
derpicdn.net/img/2023/3/24/3069671/large.png
11538221
This is some good stuff,is there more?
Had...
he gave up believing
I wonder—was he speaking purely metaphorically, or was he also subtly commanding them to restore Flurry as ruler?
He said it, he said the joshua graham line form fallout new vegas!!!
this is when shit gets real....
She's a big girl.
I like him
The battle has commenced!!!