Chapter 7
Princess Celestia set the weathered journal down on the table before her, covering her face in her hooves. She swallowed a deep breath into her lungs. Her body was trembling gently as she fought against tears. She could feel the emotion pouring forth from each page like a punch in the stomach, each word spilling the writer’s sorrow and pain into her very soul.
She lifted her head up, staring down the dark rows of bookshelves as she let herself unwind. A flash of lightning illuminated the entire archive momentarily and a deep rumble of thunder sent her mind traveling to Midgard. It was almost like the battle the author had described.
Knowing the war inside and out, she knew what was happening and what was coming next. She had been a part of it, after all. Her eyes moved across the map of the Griffon Kingdom, trailing the road from Midgard to the capital and lingering on Skyfall for a moment before ending on a single sheet of parchment. A photograph sat atop it: the portrait of the late Captain Phalanx. It was his obituary from the funeral after the war had ended. Celestia’s eyes returned to the journal. She had just reached that part now.
But there was still more to go.
Taking another deep breath and swallowing what remained of her lukewarm tea, the sovereign alicorn steeled herself to finish the journal. Her horn ignited and she opened the battle-worn cover with delicate care, handling each page as if it were a priceless artwork. Passing the point she had stopped at, Celestia was surprised to find not journal entries, but games.
Hastily scribbled games of Tic-Tac-Toe, Capture, and Hangmare covered the next few pages, along with silly little notes regarding cheating and other ponies’ mothers. Celestia couldn’t help but smile. Even at war, the ponies were making friends and having fun when they could. She turned the page and was again surprised to find a poem, autographed by Fleethoof.
She turned the page and found a sketching of a landscape. A wide road ran through rolling hills, mountains lining the horizon in the distance. She turned the page again. Another sketch, this time of a pony in uniform posing with his rifle. The drawings were half-decent. The artist had obviously devoted some time to them. Musing at the creativity war could breed, she turned the page and saw the looming walls and towers of Asgard staring back at her. Across the spine of the book lay an all too familiar line.
Dear Journal…
Over the course of several weeks, hostilities between the ponies and griffons descended, settling from all-out warfare to a bitter truce. It was as if the world had come to a complete standstill in the Griffon Kingdom. Tension ran like electricity through the air as soldiers occupied cities and towns, waiting for the ceasefire to be lifted or the war to end.
The tawdry stalemate was best described in one sentence.
Dear Journal,
We have Asgard surrounded, but nopony can do anything.
Fleethoof pursed his lips as he closed the journal and tapped his quill against the cover. For the past few days he’d tried to write an entry, but when nothing happened, nothing could be written. Many of the pages in his journal were now filled with little poems, games he had played with Sharp Shot and the others, or sketches. Every so often he would write a little note here and there detailing the morale of the troops, their behavior, incidents that broke out, and daily events. It helped to keep his sane mind grounded in reality.
Princess Celestia had been due to arrive any day now. To be fair, she was late—exponentially late. For the better half of a month, reports had been coming in from Equestria. The war was not the only action the world was seeing. News stories of Nightmare Moon's defeat and Princess Luna's return regaled the front pages of newspapers for days. But here, far away from the world he knew, and like everypony else, he sat, and he watched, and he waited.
He turned his gaze back out across the military camps. Most of the army had collected in the plains just outside the city. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see, with ponies milling about out of boredom. Even though they’d been here for some time, he still hadn’t found Shining Armor again. It worried him, but he assured himself that he had to be fine.
Fleethoof’s eyes turned over towards the city of Asgard. High walls wrapped around the citadel, set into the side of a dip in the mountain range that surrounded the territory. The city was built upon seven levels rising up the mountain, the white alabaster walls and buildings glistening in the morning sunlight. Towers rose from all over, their spires piercing the air like spears. The city loomed above them, almost twice the size of Canterlot, making the pony feel very small in comparison.
Griffons could be seen by the dozen flying around the towers and skies, mocking the ponies by making themselves such easy targets. A few bold ponies had taken potshots at the griffons during the ceasefire. They were dealt with by officers harshly. It was maddening for both sides. The griffons could see the invading force just outside and the ponies could see their enemies before them, but neither could do anything in retaliation.
Flipping open his journal to a blank page, Fleethoof pressed the quill to the page and began sketching the scene before him: the looming towers and walls, the pallid structures, and griffons in the air and along the parapets. He wasn’t an artist by any means, but drawing helped him pass the time, and with a lack of a camera, it was his way of recording what he saw.
“Hey Sarge, what’re you up to?” Valiant asked, putting his disassembled weapon back together piece by piece.
“Drawing the city,” said Fleethoof, continuing his work as he outlined the wall with quick slashes of his quill against the paper.
“Do you think Celestia’s gonna get here today?”
“I don’t know, Val… I really don’t know…” Fleethoof let out a deep sigh. The conversation ended there.
After an hour or two, Fleethoof heard a commotion and cheers from further down the camp, catching his attention. Trumpet fanfare started and more cheers and hoorahs erupted. He closed the cover on his drawing, hoping the ink was dry, and stashed his journal back in his saddlebags. The soldiers rose with their officer and everypony began making their way towards the noise.
A path had been made through the throng of soldiers. They could see a parade of golden armored Royal Guards marching towards Asgard through the bulk of the army. Behind them, a chariot was towed by a few soldiers, bearing the regal Princess Celestia, as well as a sight Fleethoof hadn’t been expecting: her sister, sovereign of the night, Princess Luna. All around them, ponies cried out praise and joy.
“It’s the princesses! Look, Princess Luna too!”
“The war is over!”
“Luna has returned! Nightmare Moon is defeated!”
“Luna is back! Equestria is whole again!”
“All hail the princesses!”
Fleethoof swallowed back his nervousness, then turned to Valiant.
“Guess it’s time,” he said with a shrug. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Sarge. Give that griffon a good kick in the tail feathers for me.”
Fleethoof scoffed and rolled his eyes before breaking through the crowd, spotting a few other officers making their way out towards the chariot. They followed behind their leaders, approaching the capital city.
“Hey.”
A voice beside him caught Fleethoof’s attention. A mare suited in the traditional silver armor of captains was looking him over, clearly trying to sum him up.
“Who are you?”
“Sergeant Fleethoof,” he introduced himself, ignoring the scrutinizing look the captain was giving him. “I’m the CO of 3rd Company, 1st Squad.”
Her look of perusal deepened.
“Captain Phalanx was leading us.” The mare’s eyes lit up in recognition at that name. “He fell in battle, and I had to take over my squad in his stead. I got his summons to this meeting, so I think I'm in the right place.”
“Phalanx is dead...?” There was a long bout of silence as Fleethoof watched the light in her eyes die. “Were there no lieutenants to take the reigns?”
“No, ma’am. I was the highest rank present.”
“Well, Sergeant, I’m sorry I doubted you,” she apologized, flicking her mane out of her face and smiling at him. “You’re a little young to be an officer and leading a squad.”
Fleethoof tried to shrug it off and ignore the nervous knots in his stomach. “I'm not technically an officer. And I’ve done a lot in my short career. I’ve been learning a lot too.”
She laughed. “Well, if you ever find yourself wanting some more teaching, come find me,” she offered with a smile he imagined a mother would give her child. “I’m Stratagem, Captain of 4th Company. I can help keep you alive a little longer.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Fleethoof said and smiled back.
The ponies had just about reached the gates of Asgard, two massive wooden doors keeping them out. The precession came to a stop, waiting for entry. Princess Celestia looked up at the griffons on the wall, glaring down at the ponies from above. Her eyes narrowed, and the griffons disappeared behind the battlements again, scattering like foals under the scolding gaze of a parent. The gates began to creak and groan a moment later as they opened inward.
Behind them, the mass of ponies erupted into roars of applause and cheers. Celestia turned and waved to them as they began to enter the city.
Fleethoof kept his breathing steady and stepped over the threshold and into the metropolis. The city of Asgard was beautiful. Everything was a bright white that sparkled in the sunlight, as if the rock was infused with tiny diamonds. The streets were clean and tidy. The architecture looked ancient and deliberate, with fine detail carved into the roofs and columns of each structure.
Since the beginning to the war, he had wondered where all the griffons had gotten to. Now he had his answer. The city was full of civilians, crowded around stores and street corners, staring them down as they proceeded through the streets. Evacuees from all over the nation must have been gathered in the capital for its security. But even still, Fleethoof was surprised by the low amount of griffons there were present. He’d been to Manehattan and other major cities in Equestria; all of them were full of ponies.
The group was intercepted by a small band of armed griffons, preceded by one dressed in an ornate cloak that bore the emblem of the Griffon Kingdom. He spoke to the princesses briefly, and then led the precession down the street. He must have been their guide.
The city was much larger behind the walls. Each tier was built like that of a cake: stacked upward into the face of the mountain, each level growing smaller and smaller. Large ramps ran from the main street of each tier to the next, gatehouses of stone and iron standing guard over each one. More griffon soldiers than he had ever seen before stood guard everywhere, patrolling the streets en masse. Getting through Skyfall had been a slow, arduous process. Asgard was going to be a nightmare to take.
When they had finally reached the highest level of Asgard, Fleethoof discovered the reason for all the security. A mammoth fortress stood over the citadel with pride. Botanical gardens and fountains lined the plateau, and a marble statue of a griffon stood on a pedestal in front of the stronghold. Stained glass windows covered the façade, with antique-looking doors signifying the entrance. Everything about the structure emphasized power and presence.
How fitting… Fleethoof thought as they trotted up the steps onto the front terrace. Two guards stood beside the doors, opening them for the princesses as they ascended the staircase and stepped inside, followed by their entourage.
Having only been inside one other castle in his lifetime, all Fleethoof could compare this to Canterlot Castle—and they were starkly different. Where Canterlot had a charming, warm appearance, Asgard’s lacked the lavish decoration and comforts. There were no plush carpets or brightly burning fires in the heaths. The chandelier overhead was wrought iron, not gold, and everything had a cold, hardened feel. Portraits of past kings were the only decoration on the bland walls. Elite guards stood sentinel everywhere, presenting an imposing presence to the foreign visitors.
Steps were heard descending the stone stairwell before them, and several griffons approached the ponies in the foyer. At the head of the pack was a griffon with light goldenrod feathers and eyes as black as the night. A flowing red cape fell around him, and an obsidian crown fitted with precious stones sat perched above his brow. He stood taller than the other griffons, at least as tall as the alicorns. His sinister expression and calculating eyes sending chills down Fleethoof's spine.
This had to be the king and his advisors.
“Welcome, Princess Celestia—and Princess Luna as well! It seems you have returned to the world again,” the king greeted, a wolfish grin painting his visage.
“King Alaric, it has been some time,” Princess Celestia replied in a flat tone, expressing her disdain for the monarch in as passive-agressive a manner as could be. “Your kingdom seems to be doing well for itself.”
Alaric’s grin faltered to a scowl. An emotion Fleethoof couldn’t quite read flashed across his eyes. “Spare me, Princess.”
“But I mean it. How you have grown to be able to wage war so confidently against one of the largest nations in the world,” Celestia said, her words double-edged and biting while retaining her characteristic grace. “You must be so proud of your country.”
“And you must be so proud of yours, your highness. You’ve truly bred a powerful, relentless military,” he rebuked, smirking when Celestia flinched a tad. “Oh, I’m sorry, does the truth sting a little?”
“I did not come here to trade insults, Alaric. We are here on behalf of all the ponies of Equestria. Regardless of how I feel, I represent them, and they want this to end.”
“Yes, of course… The ponies…” He sneered on the last word, but swiftly recomposed himself and smiled to the sovereigns, beckoning them down a hall. “If you’ll accompany me to somewhere more comfortable, we can discuss these matters further.”
Both Celestia and Luna nodded in unison and followed the griffon out of the foyer. Fleethoof and the rest of the officers followed shortly behind. Fleethoof kept repeating in his head to remain calm, keeping himself in check. He was about to witness history, and he couldn’t let a giant bird’s demeanor unnerve him. He’d seen worse—much worse.
“Brr, is it just me, or did it suddenly get a lot colder in here?” Captain Stratagem joked, looking sideways to Fleethoof. It made the pony smile a little.
“Yeah. If it gets much colder, it might start snowing,” he said, encouraged by Stratagem's soft giggle. “We might need a Winter Wrap Up by the end of these meetings.”
“Don’t be afraid of him. You’re tougher than he is,” she said in encouragement.
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re a sergeant in the Equestrian Royal Guard. That makes you stronger than any griffon any day.”
Fleethoof glanced over at Stratagem and chuckled a little. It was cliché, but it did make him feel better. She reminded him of Captain Phalanx a little—and Fleethoof felt his heart drop. He had to be tough now for his fallen mentor. He had to take his place as best he could in all regards.
They soon reached another set of doors, guards at either side. They opened the doors for them and permitted them entrance. Inside was a long rectangular room, panoramic glass windows on the side and furthest wall, the view looking out across Asgard. A long table sat I the center of the room, tall chairs on all sides. Two chandeliers hung above them and a fire burned in the hearth.
Everypony took a place at the table. Fleethoof sat himself beside Stratagem, still not feeling comfortable joining the captains at the meeting. King Alaric sat at the head of the table with two others to his side; Celestia and Luna chose the opposite end, both sides now staring the other down.
“Who are you?” Fleethoof looked across the table to see one of the captains pointing a hoof at him. He turned to Princess Celestia. “Who is he?”
Celestia's eyes lit up in recognition. “My my, Corporal Fleethoof, how good to see you,” she greeted with a smile.
“Likewise, your majesty,” he said with a smile and nod of his head. He had always felt safe around the princess. “But I’m not a corporal anymore. I’m a sergeant.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. Good work, Sergeant,” she said, then added, “but why are you here?”
Fleethoof swallowed back a lump in his throat for a moment before daring to speak. “Captain Phalanx was killed. I got his summons and thought I should take his place.”
“Oh…” He saw Celestia’s eyes darken and expression fall. “I see… I am so sorry, Sergeant. Please, keep your seat here.”
The other captain sputtered in disbelief for a moment. “But, your majesty—”
“Hey! Cut it out, Saber! You know the rule about officer replacement. They didn't have any other ranking officers in line, so he's acting leader. Or do you not remember the Royal Guard protocols?” Stratagem cut in, glaring at her colleague. “He’s filling in for our fallen friend. If you don’t like it, there’s the door. We’ll offer him your seat instead.”
Captain Saber stared at her for a few moments, then to Celestia, and then gave up with a huff, falling back to his chair. Fleethoof couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. He was liking Stratagem a lot and was happy Celestia had even supported him being here.
“Well, here we are…” said Alaric, resting his elbows on the table and folding his talons in front of his face while leaning into the table. “You wanted this ceasefire, Celestia. I’d suggest you make good use of it. What do you want?”
“You know what I’m here for.”
“Right to the chase… But I’m afraid I don’t. All I’ve been able to focus on is this war that was thrown on my doorstep.” The words hissed from his lips like a serpent.
Celestia’s magenta eyes narrowed in a way Fleethoof had never seen before.
“Don’t play games with me, Alaric. Ponies have died. We both know you had been spying on Equestria for some time with the intent to attack.”
“Such harsh accusations, your highness. How very unladylike,” he cooed, mocking the princess while grinning that predatory smile again and resting his head on his talons. “What proof do you have to back up this little theory of yours? All I ever got was your letter a while ago saying we had committed an act of war on you and demanding an explanation.”
“We found your spies in our lands. We have all the information they gathered under your command, with the official order you gave them,” Celestia said. Alaric’s grin widened further, his eyes flashing in taunt.
“And they told you all this?”
“They were killed in the act. We have the papers with your signature on them.”
Alaric chuckled.
“Circumstantial.”
“And we detained the last of your spies in Manehattan last week.”
Alaric’s grin disappeared in an instant. Fleethoof perked up. This was news to him. There had been more spies?
“Release them, Celestia,” he demanded. The alicorn closed her eyes and shook her head.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Alaric. They’re too dangerous to let go right now, or to strike deals with.” Her words were soft as ever, but Fleethoof could feel the ice in them.
“Then why are you here?”
The question lingered in the air for a moment. The electric tension Fleethoof had come to know so well out in the field felt ten times stronger in the room now. He looked around the table, observing the others at the meeting. The griffon generals sat in stony silence, barely moving at all, always staring at the two princesses as if they were targets. The other captains were looking back and forth between the parties like they were watching a ping-pong match. One had his hooves folded and was staring at the table in boredom. Stratagem had a piece of paper out and was taking notes.
“Luna and I are here because my little ponies want me to end this war. They want me to bring the brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, and loved ones outside your city back home,” said Celestia sternly, yet calmly, her eyes steeled and focused. “I do not want another creature to die in a war that does not need to continue. I had hoped you would feel the same.”
Alaric was silent for a few moments. His generals turned to him, looking for his answer. His eyes studied the patterns in the wooden table for a long time before turning back to the ponies at the other end of the table.
“No.”
Both Celestia and Luna looked surprised. “What?”
“No. You invade my kingdom, force my griffons from their homes, kill my soldiers, burn my cities, and expect me to fold to a faux peace? You insult me, Celestia,” he said, sneering down the length of the table at his opposition. “We were growing as a nation. We advanced to strengths we had not seen in generations. Then you bring this war to us and kick us back down.”
“That was your doing, Alaric. Do not blame us for that!” Celestia refuted, her voice rising in volume. “You had every intent to invade Equestria, do not try to deny it. You refused all diplomatic communication. We had no choice but to launch a preemptive strike to protect ourselves.”
“You’re right, Princess. We were going to invade—to take back what is ours by right. The griffons owned that land long before ponies did, and it’s time we took it back!”
“That was before either of our time, Alaric. You cannot take petty revenge on us when we have committed no crime.” Celestia's voice had softened again in an attempt to defuse the situation. But the damage had been done.
“Can I not? I seem to be doing it efficiently,” snapped Alaric. He was refusing to back down. “You act innocent, but you will hold the blood of my forefathers on your hooves for all eternity, and I cannot let that go.”
Celestia rubbed the bridge of her nose with a hoof. She was doing her best to maintain composure. “Alaric, please listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me now, Celestia!” he yelled and pounded his fists on the table. “The ponies have to answer for their crimes! One way or another, I will win. I will take back what is mine. And I will kill any pony who tries to get in my way of justice!”
“THOU ART MORE FOOLISH THAN WE ANTICIPATED!” Luna bellowed at the top of her lungs, rising from her seat and catching everyone, even Alaric, by surprise. “OUR PONIES WOULD THWART THY EFFORTS TIME AND TIME AGAIN, VILLAIN!”
For a long moment, no one said a word, too shell shocked by Princess Luna's outburst to say or do anything at all.
“Luna, please sit down…” Celestia spoke in a hushed tone, urging her sister back into her seat.
Fleethoof’s eyes were wide in fright, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked across the table. The other ponies looked the same way, some leaning backwards and away in their chairs. He turned back at Stratagem. She looked blown away too. Alaric slowly lowered his posture and released a heavy sigh.
“This meeting was a waste of time…” he said with a growl, clawing at the table’s surface until peelings of wood began to fall away.
“What do you want, Alaric? Can we not agree on a compromise to end the hostilities?” asked Celestia, pleading with the monarch.
Alaric shot a dark look at the princess.
“I want the coastal lands of Equestria back under the Griffon Kingdom and griffon rule alone.”
Princess Celestia shook her head again. “You know I can’t do that… I cannot force thousands of ponies out of their homes.”
“Then we’ll just take it back,” said the griffon with dark threat in his voice as he rose from his seat. “This war is still on, your majesties.”
Celestia rose to her hooves as well. “In accordance with the Geneighva Conventions, these negotiations are scheduled to run for a week still. You cannot walk away from me, Alaric. I want this to end.”
“Come back tonight then. I’m done for now,” Alaric replied without care, brushing it off as he made his way to the door. “My guards will see you out.”
Princess Celestia heaved a sigh and stood up as well, everypony else following suit. They made their way back to the foyer and out of the citadel. Fleethoof cast one last look over his shoulder, seeing Alaric glowering at them from a balcony overhead. The pony scowled back, then kept his head high as he walked through the city. He wasn’t going to let the griffons intimidate him. But he still wanted to be as prepared for warfare as possible.
“Stratagem?” he said, catching her attention. “I think I’d like to take up your offer on some lessons.”
Stratagem smiled with delight at the pony. “It’d be my pleasure.”
“Welcome to my humble abode.”
Fleethoof pushed through the fabric into Stratagem’s tent. The second attempt at diplomacy had ended just as miserably as its predecessor, and he was eagerly looking forward to learning something to take his mind off the squabbling. A quick look around and he got the sum of everything. Weapons lay on top of a chest in various stages of assembly. A makeshift table held a map, a couple of books, and an assortment of scrolls. She’d been keeping busy with studying and planning for the imminent battle.
“Cozy,” he remarked. She laughed and walked over to the chest.
“It suits me just fine. Now, what kind of military education do you have so far?”
Fleethoof shrugged. “Just what they teach in the academy and boot camp, and what I picked up in this war.”
Stratagem scoffed. “So basics and rookie stuff. Okay, square one it is then!”
The filly produced two large books from the chest and tossed them onto the table with dual resounding thuds. Fleethoof’s eyes scanned the titles. The Art of War by Sun Tzhoof, and The History of Warfare by several names Fleethoof recognized from basic training. As he began to open the cover of the first book, he felt the text being pushed further into his hooves.
“Start with Sun Tzhoof. He’s the groundwork of all military tactics and actions. What you learn there you’ll take with you forever.” Stratagem opened to the first chapter. “There’s more to war than just killing. A lot more. Let’s get started.”
Fleethoof looked down at the book, and read the heading out loud. “Chapter One: Initial Estimations… What?”
“It means laying down plans and ideas,” Stratagem clarified. “Before any battle, big or small, you must always assess the situation you’re going into and find the best and most clever course of action. It could save your life, and the lives of your soldiers.”
Fleethoof read long into the night with Stratagem. He would finish a section and she would then explain it to him again in simplified terms, giving him practical uses and mock situations where he would employ each lesson learned. With each example, Fleethoof felt the amorphous information take form and solidify in his brain. It was quick to become infectious. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know.
“I think that’s enough for one night. We have to be up in the morning for more banter with the king,” said Stratagem, her voice drawing out in a groan at the end. “You can hold onto the books. Read them in your spare time, and come see me when you’re ready for more lessons.”
“Um, okay,” was all Fleethoof could say in response, tucking the books safely into his saddlebags. “Thanks, Captain. I really appreciate the help.”
“Don’t mention it. Good night, Fleethoof.”
“Good night.” He got about halfway out the tent before stopping and turning around. He had to know something. “Why are you helping me so much?”
Stratagem turned around, staring at him in confusion. “What?”
“Why did you stick up for me at the summit? Why are you tutoring me, and not one of your lieutenants, or somepony else—anypony else more qualified than me?” he asked her. “I’m not special or important. I’m just another pony in the army.”
Stratagem was silent for a moment. Her expression grew grim and serious. She turned to face her entire body towards him and Fleethoof could feel a lecture coming on.
“Sergeant Fleethoof, never think you aren’t important. Everypony is important in an armed force.”
He chuckled beneath his breath. “That’s what Captain Phalanx used to say…”
“Who do you think I learned that from?”
Fleethoof locked gazed with her again, shocked and taken aback.
“Phalanx was one of my first true friends when I joined the Royal Guard years ago. We trained together, grew together, even bled together. I took everything he told me to heart. I trusted that stallion with my life.” She trailed off, looking down at the ground for a second before continuing. “He saw something in you, Fleethoof. I don’t know what yet, but he did. And he was willing to protect you to the death for it.”
“With all due respect, Captain, I don’t have much to offer. Captain Phalanx died suddenly. I don’t think he had any big plans for me…”
“Phalanx always had a plan, whether you think he did or not…” Stratagem said, pausing for a moment to think. She looked up at him again. “When did he promote you to the highest rank in the squad?”
Fleethoof had to think back for a minute. “A couple of days before he… before we arrived in Midgard.”
“And what happened prior to that?”
“We were jumped by griffon pyrotechnics in a town… We lost some good ponies…”
Stratagem gave the soldier a questioning look. “So do you really think it’s just coincidence that your leader promotes you to the next in command right after and before two ambushes? Don’t you think it’s more likely he was hedging his bets and making sure he put who he trusted in charge in case anything happened to him?”
Fleethoof was silent. He had nothing to say in rebuttal. She had a point. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. But Shining Armor had been promoted to sergeant as well. He must have had high hopes for both stallions.
“I’ve known Phalanx almost all of my life. He isn’t the kind of pony to throw around rewards willy-nilly. He wanted you to be where you are now, and if I had to guess, I would say it’s because he wanted a Plan B in case something happened to him. Something did—and now you’re in a position of command, being surrounded by some of the greatest military minds in Equestria.”
Fleethoof’s head lowered, staring off into space while his mind reeled, trying to comprehend all of this information at once.
“I think he wanted you to have access to the best he could offer in case he died.”
Finally, Fleethoof brought himself back into reality. His eyes met the captain’s again, seeking answers. “But why? What could he have possibly wanted me to do? I’m nopony. This is my first real war. What could he have ever seen in me?”
“Potential.” The single word left Fleethoof speechless again. “I look at you, Fleethoof, and I see a young Phalanx—and a bit of me in there, too. You’re green, but you’ve got spirit and courage. You’ve got a fire in your eyes and dedication in your heart. I think Phalanx saw that too.”
“But…” Fleethoof’s ears folded back against his head. He could feel the uncertainty and anxiety creeping up on him again. “I’m just a sergeant… and I still feel like a recruit…”
“That’s why I’m helping you now,” said Stratagem in a calm, soothing tone. “Phalanx’s first taste of combat was in the Wild West, at the struggle over the founding of Appleloosa. It was rough—rougher than Skyfall. Do you know what rank he was? He was a corporal, not long out of basic when he was thrown into that. Do you know what he was when the fighting was done?”
Fleethoof waited with bated breath.
“He was a lieutenant, well on his way to captain. He ended up in charge of the troops out there when every other officer was cut down and the rest wanted to abandon. They fought like hell for months to defend that little settlement in the middle of nowhere because Phalanx believed they could. One corporal led a garrison to victory. So don’t stand there and tell me being a sergeant means you’re nothing, because the way I see it, you’re not nothing. You’re well on your way to becoming a captain too.”
The pony’s heart stopped for a moment as realization grasped him. All this time he’d thought he meant nothing—that he was just another nameless number in the mass of soldiers. But every soldier did mean something. Every soldier had potential. Seeing his role model in this new light brought new meaning to his passing and to his current situation. Phalanx had set him up with all the opportunity he needed—and he would be damned if he was going to let that sacrifice go to waste.
“Good night, Sergeant. You’re dismissed.”
“Good night, Captain,” Fleethoof said in parting with a salute, glancing over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “…And thank you.”
Stepping out into the cool night air, Fleethoof could have sworn he heard soft sobs coming from within the tent. He swallowed down his emotions and walked back to his squad, holding his head high on his own for once. He vowed then and there to make his fallen officer proud. He didn't even notice the sentimental tears running hot down his cheek.
Sergeant Fleethoof
3rd Company, 1st Squad, Equestrian Army
Asgard, Griffon Kingdom
Dear Journal,
The negotiations between Princess Celestia and King Alaric started today. I was there, watching everything that happened—and, well, didn’t happen. Negotiations didn’t happen. It was more like they were getting their first blows on one another, letting their steam out and getting a feel for each other. I’m not a politician! I don’t know how this works!
Either way, I hope the summit goes well. Ponies all over the camps are saying that it’s the end of the war and are already looking forward to going home to their loved ones. I really hope this is the end… for everypony’s sake. I’d rather see more ponies go home safely than lie lifeless on a foreign field. But I trust the princesses. They know what they’re doing. I’m certain this isn’t their first international incident they’ve had to deal with in their thousands of years.
I’m beginning to feel more like an active leader than just another soldier now. Ponies are starting to call me by my rank. That still makes me feel weird, but I guess I’m going to have to get over it if I plan to keep this military thing my career. Being around the captains is strange too, but educational.
I met Captain Stratagem today. She’s the CO of 4th Company. She’s very clever and genuinely wants to help me succeed, it seems. She says I remind her a lot of Phalanx when he was younger, and that I have a lot of potential in me. I guess that’s a good thing, since Captain Phalanx was the best role model I had in my life. I doubt I could ever fill his horseshoes, but I’ll do my best for him and all the ponies counting on me now.
Stratagem’s been teaching me new military tactics and passing on her knowledge to me. She’s one of the most brilliant military minds I’ve known—even better than a lot of the published authors I read! Hard to believe, I know, but it’s true! I feel like I’m understanding warfare in an entirely new and different perspective than before. I can feel myself growing with each lesson.
I don’t know how the future looks, Journal… It’s all shades of gray right now. But I need to stay brave and keep hope alive. It’s all that’s keeping me going, and I’m what’s keeping my soldiers going.
Please, princesses… Get us out of here.
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Hmm...there were a couple typos in there.
Anyways, unless the politicians find a way to outmaneuver each other, this war won't be ending without more bloodshed. I like how both sides are kind of at fault here, the same thing I'm trying to do.
The griffons committing espionage and the ponies launching a preemptive strike. The King's ideals seem...reasonable yet twisted at the same time. The same feel I want to give to the Belkans in my story.
If the ponies had access to Anti-Air cannons and would just ring them along the Equestrian coastline, they would be fine!
I wonder if any reinforcements will arrive from the Equestrian mainland. Now that the secret's out, it would be easier to gather volunteer ponies despite the protests.
Silver out!
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Oh dear, were there? I scrutinized this chapter three times over... If you could point them out, I'd be very appreciative!
I'm glad you like King Alaric's twisted, maniacal personality so much. I wanted to take the griffon anger and callousness we see in Gilda in the show, concentrate it, and personify it. Alaric was the end result of that.
AA guns would make it so much easier for the ponies. Unfortunately for them, their military budget hasn't allowed for the development of them yet. After this, though, I think Celestia can spare a few bits towards weapons development.
As for the rest - well, I wouldn't want to ruin any surprises along the line! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. Thanks for the constant feedback!
Hmm. An interesting turn in the story. Generally speaking when the enemies arm has your capital and you surrounded it generally means the war hasn't been going exactly in your favor. Of course griffons are proud... really really proud, and likely wouldn't care that they were surrounded and would keep fighting.
Rereading this for my review, and I caught this. Should read "Celestia," yes?
sorry, i have no intention to be rude about this,but it doesnt really seem that the journal entries are as horrific as described when celestia was reading them, are there other entries that we missed? Again no intention to be rude. and fantastic story
The Griffin King seems to have more balls then brains, i mean its one thing to admit to wanting old territory back but to tell his enemy that his people are on the verge of extinction because he's losing the war seems stupid, especially with his capital under siege. Was he trying to guilt Celestia into submission?
1564487
The ambiguity is a nice touch. Makes the story more real. It reminds me of a quote I picked up from somewhere that said war was about forcibly imposing your will on another; even if your will was that their will not be imposed upon you.
So, I imagine that in the month they were waiting, Derpy brought them all the news about Nightmare Moon, the Elements of Harmony, and Luna's return. That's why they don't question why Luna is there when she shows up, right.
"Ponies are starting to call me by my title, and some even give me salutes when I walk by."
No.... Calling him sergeant yes, saluting him no. You do not salute Sergeants they are not officers. also "rank" not "title" its more accurate and he would not have gone to that summons....
A lieutenant maybe, a sergeant no.
LOVE the story though :)
Sun Tzu?! What dark sorcery is this?
If only the ponies followed his tactics and strategy to the letter, and by that I mean conduct guerilla warfare.
Chapter 7 This is the reason we are still officially at war with N Korea (even without an official declaration of war) & it is coming up on 70 years. In WWII FDR said we would accept no terms but the unconditional surrender of the enemy. Nimitz (one of our admirals) was asked about plans for postwar Japan. He replied "After the war, the Japanese language will be spoken only in Hell." It has been 70+ years & we haven't had a lick of (military) trouble from them. Yes, thousands more soldiers died in that war but IMO it prevented at least 1 war since then.
If Viet Nam taught us anything it should have been "Go big or go home ". If you ain't in it to win it, go home.
Am I the only reader who was comparing Asgard to the griffon city of Griffonstone as described in the episode “The Lost Treasure of Griffonstone”?