• Published 4th Oct 2012
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The Griffon War: A Soldier's Memoirs - Dusk Quill



The journal of a front line soldier in the Royal Guard.

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Chapter 11

Loud explosions ushered in the morning the following day. Even from their distance, the battle could be heard from the ships on the open sea. Fleethoof rushed up above deck, the soldiers and sailors already congregating on the deck. Ahead of them lay the Griffon Kingdom, the endless mountain range all too familiar to him. Skyfall sat in its valley, fresh smoke billowing from it. Popping gunshots could be heard over the swell of the sea. Skyfall had become a battlefield again.

Captain Cuirass charged onto the deck right behind Fleethoof, skidding to a halt as he stared off at the city. Fleethoof turned and rushed up the stairs to the helm to elevate his position, pulling out his binoculars. He couldn’t see much from where they were, but he could see ponies and griffons in the air—a lot more than there had been occupying the city before.

The Equestrian army had made it to Skyfall, but it didn’t look like the griffons were going to let them leave without a fight.

“Pegasus!” a pony on the bridge shouted through the open door.

Fleethoof looked up into the sky. Sure enough, a lone pegasus pony was flying by at breakneck speeds. The soldiers on deck called and signaled to the pony. The pegasus veered down towards them, heading for the deck—way too fast. The troopers barely had enough time to get clear as the pony crash-landed onto the ship.

Fleethoof rushed down the stairs again, making his way through the crowd of soldiers surrounding the downed pony. A couple had already helped the pony up. He looked around in a daze, not entirely there. His wings were bent at odd angles, the bones broken. Fleethoof winced and took a place beside the pony.

“Are you all right, soldier?” he asked. “What happened?”

“Skyfall… Griffons… Lots of griffons…” he spoke between heavy breaths. “Blockade… Can’t get through…”

“Catch your breath, soldier,” said Fleethoof, placing a careful hoof on the pony's shoulder. “How many griffons? How did they all get here?”

“A lot… Maybe a hundred, maybe more. They locked the city down, barricaded the gates. The army’s there, fighting their way through, but it’s slow and rough…” The pegasus swallowed a deep breath. “They’re loyalists, still fighting for Alaric, even though he’s gone. They’re tough, well organized, not afraid to die…”

Fleethoof nodded in understanding, patting the pony on the shoulder. “You’re safe now. Get him down to the med bay, have somepony look at those wings.”

Standing up again, he looked out across the ocean at the fast approaching city. The gunfire and battle sounds became more distinct with every passing minute. If the griffons wanted one last fight, he was going to give them hell.

“Battle stations, everypony! Full speed and prep the guns!” Fleethoof shouted in command. “If they want a fight, we’ll give them one!”

The soldiers chanted in unison and rushed about the ship. Taking position back on the bridge with Captain Cuirass, Fleethoof continued to watch the Griffon Kingdom get closer and closer. His blood ran cold, a shiver going up his spine. Switching between observing and giving direction, Fleethoof bided his time, just waiting for the warships to get close enough.

From their position, Fleethoof could see the charred skeletons and burned remains of the previous ships on the shore. He had been right about the griffons destroying their only escape. Thank Celestia for his intuition. The ships drew closer. The sounds of battle were so close they were almost in it. He could see the outer wall and gate, barricaded with logs and crude makeshift fences.

“Bring the ship around broad side,” Fleethoof ordered the helmspony.

At his command, the ship began to turn, the starboard side of the ship lining up parallel with the walls of Skyfall. From the city walls, small muzzle flashes could be seen. Bullets began to haphazardly strike the ship’s steel hull.

“How cute. They’ve opened fire,” Cuirass mocked, smiling at the sergeant. Fleethoof couldn’t help but smirk as well.

“Ready cannons!” Fleethoof said, waiting a few moments as the ship lined up with the city. “Open fire!”

Several loud explosions filled the air as the cannons fired. Fleethoof watched in awe as a dozen shells sailed through the air, smashing into the walls of Skyfall with fiery explosions. He could hear griffons shrieking and screaming in terror, some fleeing from the battlements already as the stonework began to crumble like stale bread under the assault. It wasn’t quite enough to break through, but it had done significant damage on its own. Behind them, Fleethoof could hear the other ship firing as well, striking the walls again, a few shells going high and destroying some unfortunate buildings within the city.

“Fire at will!” he commanded, and the guns fired again, and again.

Under the relentless artillery fire, the griffons routed back into the city. The barricades were torn to shreds and the walls began to fall apart piece by piece like an old gingerbread house. Once he was pleased with the damage done and the lack of opposition facing them, Fleethoof halted the attack. They had broken through. It was time to help the army.

“Everypony to the longboats! We’re going ashore!” he said, making his way to the rows of longboats hung around the sides of the ships.

The boats were quickly filled. Fleethoof took his place in one as they were lowered to the water. Four ponies rowed towards the shore a short distance away, but that gap might as well have been miles as the ponies were forced to listen to the battle raging on ahead of them.

Fleethoof loaded a magazine into his new rifle and chambered the first round. They were halfway to the beach now. He glanced back. The other boats were scattered about behind them, and the longboats from the other warship were making their way to shore now too. They were in the lead.

The next thing he knew, shots hit the water near the boat, making everypony jump and Fleethoof turn forward again. A half dozen griffons flew over their heads, firing at the longboats as they passed.

“Open fire! Open fire!” said Fleethoof, taking aim down his sights and engaging the hostiles.

Several other ponies in his boat, as well as the rest, returned fire. The griffons fell one by one in quick succession. Fleethoof took aim at one, and then another, killing them with a couple shots. The new sight was lethally accurate, so much so it floored the seasoned soldier. A few more bullets ripped through the air at them. Without cover, the ponies hunkered down, trying to make themselves as small as possible. The bullets chipped away at the boat, striking one of the ponies in his boat and killing her instantly.

“Covering fire!” he called back, and heard another pony in a different boat give the same order.

Under the hail of bullets, the brash griffons stood no chance. But Fleethoof reminded himself that these griffons weren’t trying to win—they were trying to kill and get killed. They wanted to cause as many casualties as they could. This was the last ditch effort of a broken army for a fallen tyrant.

The fight to the shore continued for a little while longer, until the boat washed up onto the sand. Fleethoof jumped out before they had stopped moving, wading through the shallow water and rushing up the beachhead with his soldiers behind him. One by one, the rest of the boats hit the beach and the soldiers charged towards the city, all shouting their battle cry at the top of their lungs.

As they approached the walls of Skyfall, gunfire opened up again. Griffons had taken their places at what remained of the battlements again. Fleethoof winced as a few bullets snapped by him, charging as fast as his legs could carry him towards the gates, hoping speed would avoid death.

A couple of ponies ahead of him were hit, one flying backwards, dead before she hit the ground, and the other collapsing to the sand as her leg gave out beneath her, crying out in pain. He rushed across the sand towards her while the beautiful sound of artillery fire started up again. The shells whizzed over his head and smashed into the walls again, toppling most of the upper section and sending griffons falling in every direction with each explosion.

“Get up!” Fleethoof said to the pony, lifting her up with his body. “Come on, keep moving!”

The two ponies trudged through the sand towards the walls. More soldiers joined their side, a mass of Equestrian soldiers surging through the gates. But a band of griffons jumped out at the other side before they could reach the end, opening fire on the invading force. Fleethoof dropped to the ground with his wounded comrade, bringing his rifle to bear and acquiring his first target in a heartbeat. He fired one clean round through his foe’s head, then the next, and the next, the other troops firing bursts into the remaining enemies.

“Push forward!” he shouted to the soldiers as they ran past him. He helped the injured soldier sit up. “Can you walk?”

“I… I think so. The bullet didn't hit the bone.” She got to her hooves. They supported her weight and she nodded to him.

“Good. Let’s go meet our friends.”

Charging back into Skyfall felt like a bad case of déjà vu. Glimpses of his first brushes with battle and death flashed before his eyes as he ran down the sides of the main road with his squad. The soldiers hugged the buildings for cover as they advanced, scanning every sector for any contacts. Above his head, dozens of pegasi flew into the aerial fray to aid their allies, gunfire popping everywhere around him like firecrackers.

A griffon squad charged onto the road, opening fire on the surging ponies. Fleethoof skidded to a halt, his sleight of hoof bringing his weapon up fast and emptying his magazine into the enemies along with a half dozen other soldiers. The griffons never stood a chance.

He reloaded his gun on the run while the soldiers cut through their opposition on the first level, moving to the gatehouse to the second level. True to the pegasus’s report, barricades had been set up here too. Except now they didn’t have their artillery.

“Move! Move! Clear the way!” somepony shouted from behind him.

Fleethoof turned and barely had enough time to get out of the way as two ponies rolled a barrel up to the roadblock. They fell back a short distance, then opened fire on it. The barrel exploded in a fireball, taking the wooden barrier with it. Several soldiers cheered. Fleethoof grinned widely. The gunpowder that had nearly killed him had proved useful after all.

“To the second level!” Fleethoof ordered, then stopped as griffons began making their way down the ramp towards them. “Take them down!”

The griffons were lit up in a volley of bullets, falling where they stood. Fleethoof lowered his weapon and made his way up to the second tier with his soldiers. Behind him, more shooting rang out as the ponies swept the buildings. Throughout the streets of the higher level of the city, the griffons were already engaged in heavy fighting with the main body of Equestria’s military.

“Check your fire! Friendlies present,” Fleethoof said back to the soldiers galloping up on them. “Clear the city, go!”

Fleethoof ran with a small group of soldiers down one of the side streets. They flanked behind a unit of griffons firing on ponies from behind cover. The ponies cut them down with speed and efficiency, Fleethoof claiming three kills for himself. He beamed as he looked at his rifle. He loved this weapon.

The team moved through the side streets, sweeping through the griffons distracted by other fights. Now trapped and engaged on all sides, the griffons were crushed. The battle was going well.

An explosion burst on the next level up, catching Fleethoof’s attention on the spot. Something heavy was going on up there. With the fighting going very much in their favor here, he led his team towards the next gatehouse, killing any griffons along the way. As they turned towards the gate, Fleethoof ran headfirst into an enemy, two more griffons behind him.

“Wait!” the griffon cried out as he stumbled backwards, dropping his rifle and throwing his talons up as the ponies took aim for the kill shot. “Don't kill us! We surrender! We surrender!”

Fleethoof watched in surprise as the other two griffons dropped their weapons and surrendered as well, dropping to their knees. He glanced back at his troops and saw the questioning looks on their faces as well. He knew the protocol for prisoners of war. He looked to the griffons, and then searched around the alley.

“Bind their talons with this, and take them back to the ships.” Fleethoof tossed a coil of rope to one of the soldiers. “Pass the order on to the others: if any griffon surrenders, they are to be taken alive.”

“But, Sergeant—”

“The war is over, soldier,” Fleethoof interrupted, eyes stern and adamant in his decision. “Those who surrender will not be harmed. Understood?”

The ponies were silent, but nodded.

“Good. Now take them back to the beach.” He lingered long enough to make sure they set to binding the griffons before heading off to rejoin the battle.

Making his way up to the third level wasn’t easy. The griffon barricade had been destroyed, but griffon elites formed a living blockade on the ramp, firing on anypony who got close. From the side, Fleethoof killed several of the griffons, drawing their fire long enough for other ponies to join in. With the alternating momentum between himself and the soldiers on the street, the elite soldiers were dead within moments.

As Fleethoof made his way up to the third level with another squad behind him, he saw the reason for the explosions. If the second level had been conflict, the third level was war. The mass of the griffon and pony forces were here, shooting from any and every direction. The entire city tier was a helter-skelter battlefield.

Several stray bullets struck the walls and ground near them, forcing the ponies to rush around a building and down an alley. “Go! Get to cover!”

The ponies ran down the gridlock of streets, skimming the outskirts of the skirmish. They eventually came across a small plaza, stumbling from a run to a halt when they saw the group of griffons hiding there. Several stood in a line at attention while one marched back and forth in front of them.

“This is your last chance for glory,” the pacing griffon said to the nerve-racked soldiers. “Kill as many filthy ponies as you can. Death for the great King Alaric will be the greatest service you can perform.”

“But… Officer Bronzebeak… Alaric betrayed us,” one of the soldiers murmured under his breath. “He fled and left us to die. He brought this on us. The war is lost, sir.”

The griffon officer stared at the soldier for a moment, then drew his pistol and shot the avian in the face. Fleethoof’s jaw dropped while he watched the body crumple to the ground.

“Anyone else feel this way?” He received no response from the terrified soldiers. “We may not win the battle today, but we will have our retribution someday!”

Bang!

A single gunshot rang out as Fleethoof put a round through the back of the griffon officer’s head, his body collapsing in a limp pile to the ground while blood sprayed across his horrified troops. He pointed the smoking barrel of his gun to the remaining griffons, the ponies behind him aiming their weapons as well. Almost immediately, the griffons threw their talons in the air, weapons tumbling to the cobblestones with a clatter of metal on stone.

“Please don’t kill us!” one griffon begged. “We don’t even wanna fight anymore! Right, guys? We’re being forced to by that crazy Alaric!”

The other griffons gave various responses and nods in agreement. Fleethoof’s brow raised in interest. Alaric was forcing them to fight against their will? Perhaps he was in Skyfall as well.

“Bind their talons. Leave them here until we can safely get them out.” He lowered his gun and gave the surrendering enemies a cold glare. “If you do anything stupid, you will all be shot. Get it?”

The griffons nodded rapidly. “Got it.”

“Good. The rest of you, on me.” Fleethoof began leading the rest of the squad back down the alleys. The ponies burst out onto the main thoroughfare from the side roads into the heat of the battle. Fleethoof raised his rifle to a small cluster of griffons, lighting them up and draining his magazine into the enemies. An explosion burst forth beside him, sending a mass of screaming griffons and ponies sailing through the air. He recoiled from the heat, raising a hoof to shield his face from the blast.

“Kill them! Kill them all!”

That voice…

Fleethoof looked up toward the shouting and spotted the fallen King Alaric standing on a rooftop, shielded by black Spec Ops soldiers surrounding him, shooting at the ponies from above. The disgraced monarch wore bright gold armor, firing a pair of pistols at any pony he could see. He had degenerated from a twisted leader to a desperate madman driven to the brink.

“Up high! Two o’ clock!” said Fleethoof, shoving a magazine into his weapon while his ponies turned with him.

Seeing his opportunity, Fleethoof took aim and opened fire. His shots fell low, killing one of the soldiers near Alaric. The rest moved like clockwork, forming on their leader to protect him with their lives. The ponies beside him fired on the group, dropping them one by one. When only a couple remained, Alaric took off, darting away from the combat.

“Dammit! Cowardly bastard!” Fleethoof spat out. “Fight through! We have to get after him!”

The ponies jumped into the fray, fighting in every direction at the nearest enemy they could find. Fleethoof killed one griffon, and then another. It was like shooting targets back in basic training now—except they shot back. The mass of the army had surged forward, the remaining griffons falling as far back as they could. Ponies ran past Fleethoof, cornering and squashing the enemies between two inescapable fronts.

“Take any that surrender,” Fleethoof shouted his order to the passing ponies. “Do not harm the unarmed.”

Now clear to pursue, he charged across the street, following after Alaric. He had lost the griffon’s trail, but this had been the right direction. It was just a matter of finding him again. He ran down the roads and alleys, passing a couple of enemies that had surrendered and were taken captive. The gunshots were coming through more sporadically. Most of the opposition had already fallen or surrendered. The battle was practically won.

But up ahead, volleys of gunfire could be heard. Fleethoof hesitated, listening for the direction, and then bolting off after it. He ran into a small plaza in front of a house. Ponies took cover behind debris and walls, firing at the doors and windows. Muzzle flashes lit up in the openings, returning fire at the ponies.

Fleethoof surveyed the situation, then ducked down one of the winding streets, taking him around behind the house. A griffon stood at the back, firing around the corner at the ponies in the front. It was too easy. He took the foe down with two shots to the torso. Charging to the back door, he broke in, tackling a griffon in his entry and pinning him against the wall. He pulled his new knife out, shoved the blade into the griffon’s stomach, and then drove it into his chest before letting him collapse in a heap.

Before he could do anything, another griffon ran around the corner. Fleethoof reacted on reflex, tossing his knife at the griffon. He heard the strike and saw the hilt embedded in the avian’s chest. The griffon grunted, stumbled to the side, and slid down the wall. He retrieved his knife again, just as the sound of smashing wood was heard ahead of him.

Fleethoof lifted his rifle, slowly sidling along the wall towards the next doorway. He could hear a quick volley of assorted gunfire, watching the flashes around the corner—and then silence. His breathing was hard, his grip on his rifle tight as he approached the doorway. Taking a deep breath, he turned the corner, gun raised—and saw the barrel of a rifle pointed in his face as well.

Neither side moved for the longest time, Fleethoof's eyes shifting in and out of focus on his opponent through the weapon’s sight. Snow white fur obscured most of his vision, and the gun at his head was Equestrian in origin. It wasn’t a griffon he was aiming at. Pulling his head back a little, his eyes met wide cerulean ones, and he recognized the face in an instant.

“Shining Armor,” he breathed in relief.

“Fleethoof?” Shining sounded incredulous. He gave a shocked laugh and lowered his weapon. “I can’t believe it! It’s really you!”

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again, my friend,” Fleethoof said, pulling the unicorn into a quick hug.

“I saw you at those summit meetings in Asgard, but I lost you after that. I thought you’d been lost.”

“I saw you taking down the flag at Asgard,” remarked Fleethoof with a laugh. “I thought you were gone too!”

A few gunshots above their heads on the next floor cut the conversation short. Both ponies looked up at the ceiling, then back to one another. Shining Armor loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle and nodded to his friend.

“You got my back?”

Fleethoof grinned and reloaded his weapon as well. “As long as you’ve got mine.”

Both soldiers made their way toward the stairs, marching up them with swift and strong steps that stomped loud in the halls. The upstairs consisted of a plain hallway with only two doors. Shining Armor ran down to the furthest one while Fleethoof took position at the closest. They exchanged a look, then nodded.

Fleethoof kicked the door inward, splintering the wood under the brute force. A griffon inside stumbled backwards as shards of wood flew at him, another turning away from the window he was aiming out of. Fleethoof shot both with clean precision, sweeping the small room as quick as he could. It was empty.

Next door, Fleethoof heard glass shatter and a few shots go off. He ran out into the hallway and into Shining’s room. Shining Armor stood staring out a broken window, two more dead griffons lying across the floor in spreading pools of blood.

“Fuck! That was Alaric!” Shining Armor cursed, glaring at the fleeing form of a griffon high in the air.

“Move!” Fleethoof hurriedly climbed into the window frame and flared his wings.

“Go get him, Fleet!” Shining shouted as the pegasus took off after him.

Fleethoof flew as fast as he could after Alaric, catching up to the griffon in a matter of seconds. High above the city, pony collided with griffon, the avian shrieking in surprise as he was tackled. The two spun around in the air for a moment before they separated, Alaric glaring at his enemy.

You!” he snarled with violent rage and bolted back off through the air.

Fleethoof took aim at the retreating griffon—and felt a few bullets just miss him. He flinched and darted away. Stopping in the air was not a good idea right now. With the aerial battles still going on, the pursuit after Alaric was intense and confusing. Even when he was hot on his heels, the griffon would dart one direction and Fleethoof would lose him amongst a group of griffons, only to spot him again further away.

Finally, he was able to catch up to his enemy again, dodging bullets as he grabbed the griffon around his waist. Alaric glared down at the pony, his weight dragging him down out of the sky. He delivered a swift, hard kick to the sergeant’s face, fazing him, and then knocking him off with a second blow. Fleethoof cried out as he was knocked backwards, his rifle slipping from his shoulder and spiraling toward the ground.

Shit! Quarter Master’s gonna kill me, he thought while he took off behind Alaric again.

He watched while the dethroned monarch weaved through a couple of buildings, dodging a hail of gunfire. Fleethoof shot up over the buildings, and then dove downward, right on top of the griffon. He dive-bombed Alaric, both fighters spiraling out of control through the air for a few moments, smacking into griffon and pony alike. Alaric drew his pistol, and then both combatants crashed into a rooftop, falling away from one another as the griffon’s gun was knocked from his grasp.

Fleethoof skidded across the roof, sliding right off the edge and grabbing it with quick hooves. He grunted and hoisted himself up—and felt a talon constrict around his neck. He gagged as he was lifted into the air, Alaric squeezing down on his windpipe with vicious intent. A second talon gripped his left wing and jerked it away from his body. Fleethoof heard and felt something give. A blinding pain filled him, blurring his vision with tears. The pony giving a choking cry. A deep-seated rage burned in the griffon’s pitch black eyes while he twisted at the wing, threatening to tear it from the pegasus's body.

“You filthy, insignificant ponies thought you could just stop me like that?!” he hissed, shaking the flailing pony violently. “This war will never end so long as I live. I will avenge my forefathers. Equestria will burn. And you, foolish soldier, will die.”

Fleethoof’s head began to spin. The disoriented pony tried to keep the talon around his neck from snapping his neck like a twig while feeling about his chest for some tool to save his life. His hoof eventually nudged the soft leather pouch he was looking for. Brandishing his knife, he brought it across the griffon’s arm, the blade slicing through skin and flesh like it were butter. Alaric screeched in pain and dropped him. Fleethoof gasped for breath and struggled to draw his sidearm, but Alaric was faster, bringing his knee into the pony’s jaw. Fleethoof saw stars, and then saw cobblestones as he toppled over the edge of the roof.

Gritting his teeth in fear and shock, he reached out to grab something—anything. His hooves found purchase on a window ledge, stopping his fall short. He glanced down and watched his handgun fall to the ground, muttering a curse under his breath. Eyes turning up, he looked to see Alaric taking off again. With a grunt and a groan, Fleethoof pulled himself back up onto the rooftop, his entire body aching and his wing burning. He grabbed his knife and placed it between his teeth while he tried to flap his wing. It moved, weakly and painfully, but it wasn’t broken. With nothing short of great trepidation, Fleethoof gripped his wing, took a few deep breaths, and then jammed it back home, giving a muffled scream into his blade as the joint set back into place.

His sapphire eyes shot back to the sky, picking the golden armor of Alaric out of the sky. With a flap of his wings, he took off after his nemesis. It hurt to fly, but adrenaline drove him onward and numbed the pain. Alaric was flying slowly. It confused the pony, until he got closer, and the griffon turned to face him. Fleethoof saw the gleam of his second handgun in his claws a split second before the first shot went off.

Fleethoof weaved his flight pattern, dodging a couple of bullets before colliding with his enemy. The two tumbled through the air again, back towards the battlefield. Fleethoof slashed wildly at the griffon with his knife while Alaric swerved and jerked his movement, barely dodging the close attacks. He grabbed the stallion’s hoof holding the knife before a fatal stab could be made, the two struggling against each other’s strength. The blade hovered in the air between them, shaking with the strain of both fighters until Alaric swiped with his free talon across Fleethoof’s side. He winced out of reaction. Alaric hadn’t broken the skin, but had simply torn his uniform. He saw his equipment and saddlebags falling to the earth below.

A sharp kick to his stomach had Fleethoof doubling over as the wind was knocked out of him. A right hook to his jaw sent him spinning through the air again while Alaric broke away, trying to put distance between them to make his retreat. Fleethoof clenched his aching jaw, seeing through the black fog clouding his vision to continue the pursuit. He gripped the hilt of his knife tighter. He was going to get him this time. He had to get him. This ended now.

Gaining on Alaric fast, Fleethoof drew his hoof back for the strike. The griffon turned again, intercepting the pony’s attack, claw gripping hoof again before the blow could land. The knife hovered dangerous inches away from the griffon’s collar this time, shaking as the two fought between life and death. Fleethoof put all his strength forward, the blade pushing an inch closer. He was so close. Another surge of strength and the tip of the blade began to break the downy feathers on the griffon's neck. Fleethoof grit his teeth so hard it hurt. Just a little more...

Alaric gave him a cruel and wicked grin.

Bang!

Fleethoof’s eyes went wide as he felt something tear through his wing. He screamed in pain, his strength sapped all of a sudden as the agony drained him. Alaric brought his leg up to his stomach, releasing his hoof and kicking him away. The broken pegasus fell down through the air, seeing the griffon clutching his second pistol in his claw and laughing a dark cry of victory while he tumbled down toward the earth.

Fleethoof could see the ground below quickly coming up on him. He tried to right himself in the air, wings flapping with urgency. Blinding pain shot up his spine and spiked in his brain. He cried out again. His left wing burned worse than before, the pain nearly making him black out. Tears welled up in his eyes. His wing had been shot; he couldn’t fly.

He settled for a glide, no longer free-falling, but still coming in way too hot. Steering was difficult, and veering between buildings was impossible. Bracing himself for impact and screaming in terror, Fleethoof flew right through a window, the glass cutting up his body again. The last thing he saw was a wall heading right at him, and then he blacked out on impact.

“I think he’s coming around, Sergeant.”

“Look, he’s twitching!”

“Everypony move! Fleet! Fleethoof, can you hear me?”

Fleethoof uttered a weak moan and strained to open his eyes. The process was slow, but blinding light eventually flooded his vision. He squinted against the glare, waiting for his eyes adjust. When they settled, the first thing he could see was the sky. And then Shining Armor. Shining Armor was standing over him. His sense of self returned. He was lying down.

He looked around in a dazed confusion. He was on a stretcher, two ponies carrying him out of the gates of Skyfall. Shining Armor was trotting alongside him, another pony on the opposite side holding a saline bag. They must have been the field medics.

“What happened...?”

“We found you passed out in a building,” said Shining, a heavy exhale releasing his pent-up tension. “You took quite a beating, buddy. The doc here said you were lucky you didn't break your neck on impact. Hell, if they didn’t patch your wing up when they did, it might not have been usable ever again.”

Fleethoof looked at his wing. He eyed the splint and bandages wound around it with disdain. The pain has subsided a bit, but the wound still burned and throbbed every few seconds. At least it was tolerable now.

“What happened to my wing?” he asked, wincing when he prodded it.

“It’s broken. Just take it easy and stop poking at it,” Shining Armor said, smiling at his injured friend. “Oh, I think this belongs to you.”

Shining Armor’s horn lit up as he levitated a small, beaten book out of his saddlebags. The book came to rest on Fleethoof’s stomach. He picked it up. The trace of a smile touched his lips.

“My journal…”

“It was the only thing of value I could find when I watched your bags fall.”

“Alaric…” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about him. It wasn't our goal to kill him. He’s gone now, and he can’t do anything anymore. It’s over, buddy. The war’s over. We’re going home now.”

The ponies were walking along the beach now, heading for the multitude of longboats. Several had already made their way across to the ships, transporting ponies out in droves. The griffon captives stood in a cluster off to the side. Several soldiers stood around them, keeping guard. There were more than Fleethoof had expected. Even the griffons didn't want to fight any longer.

“What’s all this?” the voice of Captain Cuirass called out. Fleethoof saw the captain circling the group of prisoners.

“Prisoners, sir. They surrendered,” one of the soldiers reported.

“I wasn’t aware we were taking prisoners,” Cuirass said. “Were you, soldier?”

“No, sir. This order was passed around. Any griffon who surrenders is to be spared.”

Cuirass nodded slowly, looking out over the griffons. “Everypony into the boats.”

“Sir,” the soldier interjected. “What are we doing with the survivors?”

Captain Cuirass paused, looking at the griffons once more, then back to the soldiers.

“I don’t see any survivors.”

Fleethoof’s attention was caught. His eyes narrowed in concern. He sat up on the stretcher, watching the scene unfold. The soldiers seemed just as startled as he was.

“...Sir?”

“I said I don’t see any survivors,” Cuirass repeated, his tone cold and harsh. “Do you, soldier?”

The soldier hesitated, eyeing his officer. He looked out at the terrified griffons. Fleethoof watched in alarm. Even Shining Armor had turned to stare.

“I asked you a question, Corporal. Do you see any survivors?”

The soldier looked terrified. Cuirass’ hoof rested on his sidearm in idle threat, eyes burning into the younger soldier’s.

“...Not if you don’t, sir,” he answered after a moment, his head hung low and defeated.

“Good.” Cuirass drew his pistol.

Fleethoof watched in horror as the soldiers lined up, loading their rifles and taking aim. The griffons had begun to plead and protest when the ponies opened fire, Captain Cuirass taking the shot that started the slaughter. Fleethoof’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide as he watched the griffons fall, screaming and crying as they died. It took a full minute of fire before they were all dead.

Cuirass holstered his weapon, and then made his way into a longboat as it shoved off from the shore. Shining Armor turned to look at Fleethoof, his expression filled with the same dread he felt. The stretcher rocked to and fro while the ponies loaded the sergeant into a longboat, Shining sitting down beside him. Neither of them said a word as they made their way back to the ships.

Once every last pony had been loaded onto the ships, they began to sail back towards Equestria, leaving the Griffon Kingdom far behind. Fleethoof limped across the deck of the ship, trying to work his strength back up. Shining Armor walked alongside him, ready to catch his friend every time he stumbled. Captain Cuirass stood at the bridge, overseeing the transport back home.

“Cuirass,” Fleethoof shouted out when they entered, approaching the pony through the crowd of soldiers on the bridge. “What the hell was that on the beach?”

“What, you mean securing the safety of Equestria?” he asked, innocuous and innocent.

“You killed dozens of unarmed prisoners.”

“They were enemy soldiers. They were too dangerous to be left alive,” rebuked the captain. He still saw no injustice in his actions.

“They were innocent griffons caught in a hopeless battle, forced to fight against their will by a tyrant.”

“They were combatants ready to die for a cause at the drop of a hat. That was me protecting Equestria’s future.”

“That was genocide!” Fleethoof snapped, eyes burning with anger.

Captain Cuirass scoffed and shook his head. “This is why I told Celestia not to trust you. You’re too weak, Sergeant. Too soft. You’re not fit to lead. I don’t know what that princess on the train did to fuck you up so bad, but you’re no soldier. Not anymore. Boy, did Phalanx fuck up when he trusted you to lead...”

Fleethoof reached around, grabbing Shining Armor’s pistol and drawing it on the captain. Several soldiers took steps back, grabbing their weapons and watching the situation come undone. Cuirass cast a sideways glance at Fleethoof. He chuckled, then evolved into full on laughter. It chilled Fleethoof to the core.

“What? Are you going to shoot a captain? Your officer?” Cuirass sneered, opening his hooves to present himself to the pony. “Go ahead, do it. See how that plays out. See what happens.”

"Soldiers, place the captain in custody," Shining Armor ordered, seeing the blinding anger in his friend. Nopony moved, but a few did obey and lower their weapons. They took a couple steps forward.

"Stand down, ponies, or I'll have you all court marshaled with the sergeants for disobeying a commanding officer!" Cuirass snapped. His words froze the bewildered soldiers where they stood.

"I have command over these ponies, Cuirass, not you," Fleethoof seethed, his aim unwavering. "You have no authority."

Cuirass laughed again and motioned around. "Look around you, Sergeant Fleethoof! This isn't your little force of recruits anymore. This is the body of the army! Your rescue mission is over. I have my authority here now—and I still outrank you. Your part is done. I'm in charge again. So unless you want to be the one going to prison for high treason, drop your weapon now."

"Soldiers!" Shining Armor shouted and guns were raised again.

All of a sudden, the bridge had become a deadly standoff. The soldiers still loyal to Cuirass' authority raised their weapons to the reserve troops, looks of shock and concern in their eyes. They had no idea what was going on. As much as Fleethoof resented the idea, Cuirass was right. Celestia had put him in charge of the rescue operation. The mission was complete. These weren't his soldiers anymore.

Hoof gripping the gun close, Fleethoof snorted once, breathing hot and heavy while anger flooded his heart. He trained the sights on the murderous pony’s head and cocked the hammer. It would be quick. Justice would be done and the griffons’ murders would be avenged.

But it wouldn’t be right. Not like this.

Fleethoof lowered the gun a fraction of an inch at a time, releasing his held breath in a controlled sigh. He handed the gun back to Shining Armor, deep blue eyes still smoldering with rage. He couldn't act without starting a fight on the ship, and he wasn't about to be responsible for a civil conflict. The confused soldiers around him looked between one another, then lowered their guard as well. Cuirass scoffed and shook his head.

“Brave enough to draw a gun on your superior, but no balls to carry through with it...” Cuirass wore a dominating smirk and shook his head in disapproval. “You disappoint me, Sergeant. You're pathetic. Get out of my sight.”

Fleethoof snorted again, stumbling back down to the deck below. One way or another, he would make sure Cuirass paid for his crime…

Thunderous applause and screamed cheers welcomed the weary soldiers into the Fillydelphia Harbor. The ships had just moored to the docks, and hundreds of soldiers were making their way on deck to wave back to the ponies below. Confetti and flower petals flew through the air. Signs and banners regaled the returning troops as heroes. Civilians flooded the streets and wharf, trying to get glimpses of friends and family members. Flags were waved in their honor. The Royal Guard had cleared a path for the troops, saluting every pony that walked by.

Fleethoof shuffled his way across the crowded deck, Shining Armor right at his side. The recognition had made him uncomfortable before, but now, as he watched so many homeward bound ponies stepping back into Equestria with him, he felt peaceful and content. Their job had been done, and now they could enjoy their recompense. Taking that first step off the gangplank and onto the dock felt relieving. He was home again—this time for good.

He smiled and breathed a sigh. Now he felt the accomplishment. Now he felt proud. Now he felt like a hero.

Across the sea of ponies, Fleethoof saw several break from the line, embracing and kissing loved ones in the crowd. Tears ran down their tired, dusty faces, the relief and joy of being home hitting hard. It made him beam at the sight. Everypony had more than proved their merit. They deserved this.

The homecoming parade ran through the city streets, following a familiar path to the train station. Ponies crowded the sidewalks, and all carts and carriages had been pulled to the sides of the road to permit passage to the soldiers. The show of love and admiration they were receiving was enough to make Fleethoof tear up a little, the moisture blurring his vision till he blinked it back.

But not everypony was happy with the return of the soldiers. A small group of ponies stood on a street corner, booing the troops as they marched by. Signs they held berated their actions. Words of murder, genocide, and warmongers scrawled across them, accusing them of an unjust war. Fleethoof paid the protestors no attention. They only knew half of the truth.

Entering the train station felt surreal. Fleethoof looked around at the familiar surroundings, taking in all the sights and sounds and smells. So this was what victory felt like. Fleethoof felt light as a feather, like he was walking on air. All the stress of war seemed to melt away like ice on a summer day, even if just for the moment. Temporary or permanent, he felt like a champion.

In the station, warrant officers divided the line of soldiers on their companies. Papers were handed out to each soldier as they passed and boarded their respective trains to a destination of their choice. Fleethoof was next in line, the officer approaching him and glancing up at the pegasus.

“Name, rank, and unit?”

“Fleethoof, Sergeant, 3rd Company Royal Guard.”

The officer rifled through his saddlebags for a moment while searching through the documents. After a few moments, he pulled out a scroll and handed it to the stallion, nodding to him.

“Welcome home, soldier,” he said, then proceeded to the next pony in line.

Fleethoof smiled in return and boarded the nearest train to Canterlot. The train car was full of hooting and cheering ponies celebrating their victory. A bottle of cider was popped open somewhere in the car, and everypony shouted in joy while others ducked the cork projectile. He grinned, his spirits lifted just from the mood alone. Taking a seat, he took his time in breaking the binding of the scroll and opening it up.

Royal Guard & Equestrian Army

---

Official Discharge Order for:

Fleethoof, 3rd Company

For service and duty in:

The Second Griffon-Pony War

Thank you for your service, patriot.

By royal order of her Majesty, Princess Celestia, and her Majesty, Princess Luna.

~ Princess Celestia

~ Princess Luna

Fleethoof smiled and rolled the discharge papers back up, clutching them tight to his chest. The train whistle blew and the locomotive began its departure from the station. He watched as other trains left as well, fellow soldiers waiting in lines for the next ones. Ponies surrounded the railroad, waving and seeing the troops off back to their homes.

Letting out a deep sigh, Fleethoof reached back into a satchel he’d snagged from the ship and pulled out his journal. He stared down at the book for a long while, chuckling under his breath while he mused over its contents. It symbolized everything about the war to him. Now it had served its purpose. Opening up to the next blank page, he realized there were only two pages left to fill.

So close… he mused with humor as he began to write his final entry.

Dear Journal,

It’s finally over.