The Griffon War: A Soldier's Memoirs

by Dusk Quill

Chapter 8

The next few days passed in uneventful succession. Each day, the negotiations would continue in the morning and end fruitlessly by late afternoon. Some days were more civil than others. Sometimes legitimate policies and politics would be discussed between the two parties. Other times would degenerate into yelling and arguments. Fleethoof couldn’t tell if any progress was being made at all, but something had to be happening. If nothing else, he was steadily going mad from it all.

It did give him ample time to catch up on his reading though. Whenever fighting would break out at the summit, he would whip out his books and continue studying. He stayed up during the night taking notes and returning to Stratagem for advice, tests, or clarification on chapters. By the end of the second day of negotiations, Fleethoof had filled half of his journal with notes and ideas, and had completed both books, returning to his tutor for more.

Even if the negotiations weren’t making any progress, Fleethoof sure was.

Bit by bit, the pony had begun to absorb a variety of military and political knowledge by osmosis. Being surrounded by the leaders of two great nations and the commanders of the Equestrian armed forces was one of the greatest hooves-on lessons he could have imagined. He began to understand what the captains were talking about without needing a translation. Each policy that was discussed was analyzed and deduced in his mind on reflex.

Everything was beginning to become so much clearer to him. Each piece of information he retained felt like it was unlocking doors in his mind, like they were things he was meant to know. Military skill was his special talent, after all. Perhaps what Stratagem had said had been true. Perhaps he was meant to be here.

But despite all that Fleethoof had tapped into, the war remained in limbo. It wasn't to last.

The long table gave a violent shake as King Alaric slammed his fists against the surface, knocking over several glasses of water and snapping Fleethoof out of his book. He blinked in surprise, looking up and down the table to catch up with what was happening. The ponies looked either as surprised as he was or troubled. Celestia and Luna looked as solemn as they had when the summit began.

“I’ve had enough of these childish games,” Alaric snapped angrily. “We have been here well over a week, Celestia! You waste my time and my patience when it is clear that no treaty can be agreed upon.”

“If you would please come to reason, Alaric, we could work on a truce—”

“No, Celestia. Time is up,” growled the griffon. “Negotiations have ended and will remain ended. The war resumes today, and I will begin wiping the inferior pony race off the map.”

“Alaric, please—”

“And you, Princesses, will be powerless to watch as your nation burns and your loyal subjects die all because of your stubbornness and pride.”

“Enough!” one of the captains interjected, glaring down the length of the table at Alaric. “You do not threaten our country and our leaders in such a way!”

Alaric’s steely gaze narrowed toward the pony. “I think I’ll start with you, Captain.”

The griffon and the pony rose at the same time, both drawing handguns on each other simultaneously. Fleethoof reacted on reflex, standing as well with his hoof on the grip of his pistol as he took aim at the avian monarch. The two griffon generals rose to defend their king, drawing down on him. Stratagem and the other ponies rose, weapons in their hooves as well. All at once, the delegations had crumbled into a Marexican standoff. Fleethoof could feel the electric tension rise in the air again.

“Everypony, lower your weapons,” Princess Celestia pleaded of her officers, hoping to resolve the conflict.

Nopony moved a muscle.

“You’re awfully brave, Captain, pointing your gun at the leader of a nation,” Alaric jeered, then looked to Fleethoof. “Especially you—a sergeant who doesn't even belong here with such gall. I hope you live long enough for me to watch you die.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, your majesty, but I have no intention of dying out here,” Fleethoof remarked, his hoof never wavering, his aim steady on the face of the griffon.

Alaric scoffed. “We’ll see about that…”

“Lower your weapons,” Celestia ordered, her voice taking authority, enunciating each word slowly. “Now.”

There was a lingering moment of reluctance before the ponies obeyed, easing their guns down. The griffons remained stubborn, Alaric’s talon twitching against the trigger, itching to fire.

“You too, Alaric. This is a peaceful summit and it will remain that way.”

“The meeting is over, Celestia,” he said in argument, but lowered his arm as well. His generals followed suit. “Leave my castle now, or you will all be killed. This war has officially resumed. Now begone.”

Princess Celestia opened her mouth to argue, but a gentle hoof on her shoulder stopped her. Luna looked at her with despondent eyes, shaking her head back and forth. She knew the truth of the matter. She just wouldn't admit it to herself. Negotiations had failed and all hope was lost.

“King Alaric, the ponies of Equestria want this war to end.”

“Then win,” Alaric challenged the leaders of Equestria. “You can return to your Equestria and tell your subjects that the war will end when one of us lies dead. But mark my words, Princess: prepare yourself, for I will make this the worst experience you have and will ever endure in your long life.”

Celestia bowed her head, her ethereal mane covering her eyes for a moment. She rose to her hooves, looking across the table at Alaric, a look crossed between sorrow and resolution in her eyes.

“I am sorry, Alaric, but if I cannot reason with you, then you leave me no other choice,” said the alicorn in grave distress. Sadness overtook her eyes. “I have to protect my little ponies at any cost. I beg you to reconsider. Enough is enough.”

Alaric’s soulless eyes burned into Celestia’s. “See you in hell, Celestia.”

“I’m so sorry, Alaric…” Celestia turned for the door, her sister at her side and soldiers in tow.

Fleethoof lingered back, packing up his journal and book. He risked a glance over at Alaric. Big mistake. The griffon was watching him, his eyes like a hawk, studying the pony’s every move. The sergeant narrowed his eyes a touch. Time seemed to slow as the two enemies stared each other down. And then he felt a pressure on his shoulder. His eyes met Stratagem's, seeing the urging in them.

“Fleethoof,” she said, ushering him away. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Still the stallion held back, eyes meeting the griffon’s one last time. He could end the war right now. One quick draw and the tyrannical king would be dead. It could all be over.

“Sergeant, let’s go. Live today, fight tomorrow.”

With a hesitant nod, Fleethoof turned and made his way out with Stratagem, following shortly behind the others. His blood ran like ice water through his veins. The war was back on. He had such high hopes that Celestia would end the fighting and that they’d all be able to go home. But such wasn’t the case in war.

As they left the stronghold and made their way through the city, Fleethoof noticed how many soldiers had taken to the streets. Weapons and ammo were already being distributed and positions were being taken for battle. The griffons were ready and eager to get back to the fighting. Alaric had truly instilled a xenophobic hatred deep within each creature. That, or they were just a bloodthirsty, warring race. It made the pony feel sick.

“I’m sorry, everypony,” apologized Princess Celestia to her entourage as they made their way out of the gates of Asgard, unable to look at anypony in the eye.

Fleethoof felt no animosity toward the princesses for the failed negotiations. They had done their best to end hostilities between the two nations. The griffons seemed to have their minds set on violence. If that was the case, the only solution was to either eradicate their armed forces or the puppet master government that had planted the seeds of hate in their souls.

Many of the ponies outside looked to them as they left the city for the final time. Fleethoof couldn’t bear to look at them either. He couldn’t take seeing the looks of hope in their eyes and knowing they wouldn’t be getting their wish. He swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him as he walked.

“Stratagem?” His sudden call caught the attention of the captain beside him. “I know warfare gets easier with time, but… does it work the same with disappointing your soldiers?”

Stratagem looked at the young sergeant with an empathetic look, placing her helmet on her head.

“Never.”

Fleethoof nodded slowly. He’d figured that would be her answer. After a minute, he forced himself to look up and face the army. Everypony’s face held questioning, hopeful looks, just as he knew they would. The light of faith lingered in their eyes. How was he supposed to tell the ones that had counted on him to save them that they were going back to war?

Calls to the princesses rang out from every side. Questions of results and the end of the war were thrown around the air, making Fleethoof cringe under the invisible pressure. The alicorns didn’t say a word while they were carted out through the rows of soldiers. Celestia kept her head hung. Luna looked out with apologetic eyes at each pony they passed. The captains didn’t respond, everypony taking the blame for the day’s events.

“Fleethoof,” Stratagem said suddenly. He glanced over to her. “Gather your squad and meet in my tent at sunset. I have a plan to share with you.”

And then she vanished into the crowd of soldiers, headed back to her company. Fleethoof saw the others merge with the rest of the army and followed suit, getting one last glimpse at the princesses as they disembarked from their chariot to speak to the army. Fleethoof took to the skies, flying just overhead back to where his squad had made camp. As he had every day, Valiant was sitting in wait for his leader to return, his eyes lighting up when Fleethoof landed.

“Sarge! How’d it go today?” he asked. It was the same question every time. It had become his daily routine.

Fleethoof’s deep blue eyes met the pony’s teal ones. That same glimmer of hope illuminated them. The rest of his squad began to gather around him, their expressions glistening the same way. They wanted an answer he couldn’t provide for them. He took a deep breath, deciding it was best to do it fast, like ripping off a bandage.

“Everypony, listen up. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna get it over with,” he said, letting his troops form around him. “King Alaric has ended negotiations with us. He won’t stop until we’re all dead and Equestria is under their control. They won’t make any treaties with us.”

Everypony was silent, looking around at one another.

“I’m sorry, everypony… As of today, the war is back on.”

Off around the camp, shouts and cries of anger and disappointment rang out in pockets of ponies. Bad news spread fast, it seemed. Fleethoof looked around at each face around him. Most looked confused. Sharp Shot looked dazed. Valiant’s eyes darkened and his expression fell while the light of optimism died in them.

Fleethoof felt his heart drop when he saw Valiant’s hope fade.

“Do we start fighting now?” one of the soldiers around him asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, looking out towards to towering white wall of Asgard. “We’ve been requested to meet at Captain Stratagem’s tent when the sun goes down. We’ll know what the plan is then.”

By the time the sun had reached the western horizon, the army was well into their preparations for battle. The princesses had long since departed for Equestria, weapons were being prepared, and the soldiers were getting ready for the long night ahead. Beneath the burning blood-red sky, Fleethoof’s small squad of ponies made their way across the would-be battlefield, uniform silhouettes of soldiers moving like shadows across the field.

They entered the canvas tent one by one. Captain Stratagem and another pony stood around a map, murmuring to one another as they shifted little figurines about on the paper. The mare looked up when the ponies entered her tent, smiling when Fleethoof entered last.

“Sergeant Fleethoof, right on time,” she greeted, waving to the pony beside her. “I’d like you to meet my lieutenant. He’s here to help me organize. Now gather round, everypony. This is something you all need to see.”

Fleethoof and his squad crowded around the small table, eyeing everything before them. The added figurines made sense to the sergeant and his new military knowledge. He could see two figures set on Skyfall, a few others scattered about in other cities, and a mass surrounding Asgard. Stratagem was planning the next phases of the war.

“What have you got for us, Captain?” Fleethoof asked, placing his hooves on the table and studying everything—literally everything.

“This is phase one of our plan to take Asgard,” said Stratagem, shrugging after a moment's thought. “I say ‘our plan’, but it’s my plan.”

“Okay… Why are their two units set on Skyfall?” he asked.

“Well, that’s not relevant to our strategy, but that’s a good eye. It’s because reinforcements arrived at Skyfall about a week ago. The reserves that were left behind from our first invasion made it over.”

Fleethoof nodded in understanding. “Okay, that’s good to know. So what’s the plan of attack?”

“As you’ve seen from our time in there, the city’s virtually impenetrable. The walls are dense and they have snipers perched in every tower. Asgard is a fortress to be reckoned with,” continued the captain. “There are no storm drains that lead out to the fields—only the ocean—nor any tunnels beneath it. So we made our own.”

She giggled under her breath when Fleethoof shot her a curious look. “You made your own tunnels?”

“Yes we did.” Stratagem placed a piece of paper on the table for them to see. “This is a diagram of what my troops have been doing while we were at those meetings. They dug a tunnel underneath the field that spans all the way under the city wall. It lets out in a warehouse somewhere in the city, though we’re not exactly sure where.”

Fleethoof took the tunnel diagram in his hooves and looked over it. “How long has this plan been in the making?”

“Since the summit was started. I decided to cheat a little and use the ceasefire to my advantage,” Stratagem admitted with a proud smirk on her face. “My company was all too willing to get a sneak attack in on the griffons.”

“This is brilliant, Captain. But the tunnel doesn't look that large—not even big enough for a pony to stand in. How are we going to get troops through it in great numbers?”

“Oh, we’re not sending the army through there, Sergeant. Just you and your squad.”

Fleethoof blinked in surprise. “Say what?”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Fleethoof. I’m sending your squad through the tunnel into the city to infiltrate and get the gate open, as well as deal some damage to some key structures. I’m assigning your squad to special operations for the extent of the war.”

“S-Special operations? Spec ops?” Fleethoof repeated in bewilderment, taken aback by the responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders. “Captain, are you sure? That’s a tremendous duty… Wouldn’t we work better as a part of the main force?”

“A squad as small as yours would only get lost in the mix. You can make a bigger difference by doing smaller, specialized missions that larger groups could not. You have less of a risk of getting caught in a bottleneck, crossfire, or just lost in the masses,” said the captain with sage reason and logic. “I have faith in you, Fleethoof. You’re a very promising pony, and if Phalanx had such trust in your skills, then so do I. I know you’ll accomplish your mission without a hitch.”

Fleethoof was silent, taking in all the information he had been hit with. He glanced over his shoulder at his squad. The ten ponies that remained were as quiet as he was. They all looked as uncertain as he felt. But he had been through so much with these ponies. He trusted them with his life.

“Okay, Captain, we’ll do it. What are our targets?”

Stratagem grinned, then pulled a detailed map of Asgard out across the table. Twelve red X’s marked places within the city.

“We don’t exactly know where the tunnel lets out, but it’s definitely on the first level of the city, somewhere around the west district,” Stratagem explained to the ponies. “You and your squad will sneak into the city in the night carrying saddlebags filled with satchel charges and plant them at the red X’s here and here, beside the main gate and the gatehouse to the next level.”

Her hoof moved over to the next level of Asgard, pointing to the next X, and up to the next level, repeating this for the second, third, and fourth tiers.

“The griffons have declared martial law, so expect security to be watertight. You’ll have to sneak up to each level through the storm drains in the walls if these gates are closed. Once you reach the fifth level, you’ll also plant charges here and here, at the two watchtowers on the wall. Keep your eyes peeled for snipers up there. On the sixth level, you’ll also have to put charges in the barracks, the armory, and the bunkhouse. This will take out a good chunk of the opposition before the fight begins.”

“Okay…” Fleethoof murmured, nodding as he absorbed the details of their mission and trying to memorize the locations they needed to attack. “Seven gates, two towers, and three buildings. Got it.”

“You can take this map with you to help you ID the targets. I strongly recommend using stealth and avoiding confrontation to keep yourselves invisible. Use the darkness to your advantage. We even have a little help coming from your hometown, Fleethoof. Cloudsdale has sent a coastal storm across the ocean, due to hit us tonight, so you’ll have rain to cover your work as well.”

Valiant raised his hoof from where he stood. “How are we going to be setting twelve charges off all at once from a safe distance? We don’t have that many ponies.”

“You don’t have any demolitionist in your squad, so I expected you not to know how this works,” Stratagem said, producing a small remote with two red buttons on it. “You’ll be using this. There’s a magical energy connection between this remote and the charges I have for you. The first button primes the explosives, the second one detonates them.”

She cast her gaze back to Fleethoof, sliding the remote across the table to him. He caught it and turned it around in his hooves for a moment before tucking it away in his saddlebags.

“When are we detonating the charges?” asked Fleethoof.

“At the crack of dawn, when the first rays of light break over the horizon. It’ll give me enough time to brief the other officers and prepare the troops.”

“And where do we set them off from?”

“The remote only has a certain effective range. Any charges beyond that will not explode, so you’ll have to activate them no further than the first level of the city. I’d recommend blowing them right before you duck back down the tunnel.”

Fleethoof chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

“Any more questions, gentlecolts?” the captain asked. She looked between everypony. Nopony spoke. “All right, let’s get the charges loaded into your bags and get you kitted. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

The night was starless and dark over the Griffon Kingdom. A heavy blanket of clouds blocked out the celestial sky. Thunder rumbled overhead, a signal of things to come. The meager squad stood inside a tent, huddled over a deep hole in the ground. The bottom couldn’t be seen, even with the lamplight from the lantern hanging overhead. Fleethoof and Stratagem had finished doing a double-check on everypony’s equipment, making sure they had enough explosives and ammunition to go around.

“Okay, is everypony ready?” Captain Stratagem asked. Several ponies nodded while others locked and loaded their weapons in quiet contemplation. “Good luck, squad. We’re counting on you.”

“Okay, colts, let’s go. Everypony’s waiting for us to start the party,” Fleethoof said while grabbing a lantern in his mouth. Valiant grabbed one as well.

He made his way to the edge of the hole, peering down it with trepidation. A rope was tied around a post next to the opening, leading down into the abyss. The sergeant wound it tight around his hooves and slid into the blackness of the hole, back hooves against the sides to rappel down.

“Sergeant,” Stratagem called out, catching his attention just before he vanished. “Come back in one piece.”

All Fleethoof could manage was a nod and a slight smirk around the handle in his mouth, and then he was down the hole.

The tunnel was further down than Fleethoof had thought. It took him a good few minutes before he reached the bottom, and when he finally had, the light back up at the top seemed so distant. He whistled up to the others and watched the silhouettes of ponies descending one by one.

Taking the lantern in his jaws again, he set off down the tunnel at a gradual creep, lighting the way for the others. He had thought the diagram made the passageway look small, but it was even more cramped in reality. He had to crouch and crawl his way through the dirt to avoid hitting his head on the top and risking a cave in. He could hear more hooves on the soil behind him and glanced back to see the rest of his squad with him. The light at the back let him know Valiant had taken up the rear, keeping them all out of the dark.

The crawl through the dark tunnel was far from easy. The air was thick and stuffy, and the tight space was uncomfortable. He said a silent prayer thanking his maker he wasn’t claustrophobic. Progress was sluggish and arduous, but they were too far in to stop now, not that they could turn around if they wanted to. They had a mission; they had to see it through.

Fleethoof wondered just how far underground they were. He couldn’t hear anything from the surface, not even the hooves of the soldiers on the battlefield. They must have been deep.

Thorough work, 4th Company… he thought while they plodded onwards.

He lost track of time through their trek. Without any idea how long or how far they’d been crawling, all Fleethoof could hope was that the end was near. All that his lantern illuminated was more and more tunnel. Everything was so quiet. Even his ponies were silent, following their leader on blind faith alone.

After what felt like hours of crawling, the end of the tunnel came into view. Fleethoof breathed a sigh of relief as he approached it and started the task of trying to find the way up. 4th Company had cut hollows up the side, like a ladder built into the tunnel wall. He grasped the hollows with careful hooves, grunting as he pulled himself up out of the tunnel inch by inch. Climbing back up felt even longer than it had coming down. There was no light at the top like the other end; he had no clue where the mouth was.

And then he smacked his head on something heavy and hard. Groaning, Fleethoof pushed a hoof up above him and felt the smooth object for a few seconds. A stone block was covering the exit. Fleethoof balanced himself against the sides of the hole while he pushed up against the stone, grunting as it gave way and slid aside. The sound of stone grinding against stone was heard, and then cool air rushed down into the musty tunnel. A flash of lightning showed the interior of a building. They had made it.

Fleethoof climbed up into the warehouse, taking a cautious look around for any guards. The large room was empty, filled only with crates and silence. He motioned for the rest of his squad to join him as he set the lantern down and extinguished the flame to hide their presence. Darkness swallowed up the room and the ponies within it.

“Is everypony here?” he asked as Valiant climbed up, doing a quick head count. “Okay, lock and load. Keep low and stay quiet. We can’t be noticed or else we're done.”

He received a few noiseless nods as everypony checked their weapons and Valiant put his lantern out. The sergeant slowly led the ponies through the warehouse, looking for an exit. They could see the rain had started to fall through the large windows of the warehouse. The streets of Asgard were dark and empty, devoid of all life, the streetlights all out. They were hiding from the Equestrians.

“This way,” he whispered, leading them through an office annex.

It didn’t take them long to find the front door, unlocking it and slipping out into the cold, rainy night. The water felt good against his dirt-covered coat, refreshing him as they slunk through the streets, hugging the walls and shadows as they moved.

Another flash of lightning lit up the city long enough for Fleethoof to get his bearings. He recognized the street they were on. He had passed it several times from the main road. He led his squad down the road, and sure enough, they were on the large road running from gate to gatehouse. Griffons patrolled along the cobblestone street in groups, too many to even consider taking on.

“Alley over here,” somepony said in a hushed tone behind him.

“Everypony down the alley, and hurry,” he said, taking point as they rushed down the alleyway between streets, their hooves making soft, wet clops as they ran through shallow puddles collecting between the stones.

The back streets took them parallel to the main road, shadows of buildings and rain providing enough cover for them to move about undetected. Fleethoof ran up to the gigantic outer wall and pressed his back to it, watching the griffons’ patrol patterns and waiting for them to move away. When they did, he and his squad ran alongside the wall to the large wooden gates.

“Charge,” Fleethoof requested, his voice never rising above a whisper. The pony nearest him levitated a charge out of his saddlebags with his magic, placing it with care in his officer’s hooves.

“Keep the magic to a minimum. They might see the aura,” he reminded the soldier as he fixed the charge against the frame of the gate. “Another.”

He placed a second charge against the other section of the gate and motioned to move. The squad rushed off the street just as the griffons began to make another pass. The ponies moved with the darkness, scarcely breathing for fear of attracting attention. Though there weren’t as many soldiers as Fleethoof had seen in the city before, there was still way too many present for ten ponies to take on and hope to live.

Taking their time, the squad made it to the gatehouse. Much to Fleethoof’s fears and Stratagem's predictions, the gates were closed. He huffed and grit his teeth. They’d have to find a way around.

“We’ve gotta find that storm drain. The map said it should be around… there, somewhere.”

A little bit of searching turned up a small culvert in the wall. Two griffons patrolled alongside the wall. It would be impossible to get past without being seen. Fleethoof chewed on his lip for a moment while he tried to think of what to do. They couldn’t open fire without creating a ruckus. Now was the true test of everything he’d been learning.

A plan came to him.

“Valiant, you come with me and do as I do,” he ordered, then pointed to another soldier. “Go and make some noise around the corner. Everypony else stay in the shadows and don’t move.”

The ponies broke off, taking their position. Fleethoof and Valiant stood around the corner of a building, watching around the edge as the guards made their rounds. From a nearby alleyway, the sound of knocking and hooves on stone echoed around. The guards turned abruptly and began to make their way towards the noise, away from Fleethoof and Valiant.

“Now,” he hissed.

Both ponies rushed around the corner behind the griffons. Fleethoof grabbed one of the griffons from behind around his neck. The griffon choked and struggled for a moment before the pony grabbed his foe’s head and jerked his hooves in opposite directions. A sharp snapping was heard and the griffon went limp in his grasp. Beside him, Fleethoof heard the sound of flesh being torn and saw Valiant driving his knife through the griffon’s chest, killing the second guard.

“Nice work,” he said to his two accomplices, beckoning to the other ponies just down the road.

Once the squad had regrouped, it was an easy climb up into the culvert and on to the next level. The ponies worked their way along the wall and placed more charges against the first gatehouse and went on their way.

The second gatehouse was easier. The gate hadn’t been shut and there were fewer guards at this one. The griffons had obviously placed most of their security at the front in an attempt to intercept the invading ponies should they try to attack. Fleethoof smirked to himself. They hadn’t anticipated a sneak attack.

Leaving another set of charges and moving on, the ponies worked their way to the fourth level. The gate was also open, and more charges were set in place. Then they came to the fifth level. The two lofty towers loomed overhead and were easy targets to pick out in the storm.

“Split up. You five place two charges at the base of the east tower. You four come with me to the west,” directed Fleethoof. The team set off to work.

They were making great time. Coming up to the tower, Fleethof spotted a single wooden door set into it. He opened the door with great wariness, drawing his pistol just in case. A quick sweep of the base revealed all was clear. All that was in the room was a small hearth with a dying fire, a couple of chairs, and a staircase spiraling up the tower. A lone griffon guard slept in one of the chairs.

Fleethoof motioned to the griffon with his hoof across his throat. A pony nodded and drew a knife from his saddlebag, sneaking up on the griffon. The sergeant could hear the gurgling death rattle of the griffon behind him while he set a charge against the tower wall and another on the opposite side. Their task complete, the five began to make their way out—just as the door opened inward.

A single griffon stepped in out of the rain, right into Fleethoof. Both creatures grunted on impact. The pony reacted first, grabbing his opponent and hurdling him through the air and onto the ground. Just as the griffon was recovering from the sudden impact, he saw a pony toss a knife to Fleethoof and squawked in surprise as the pegasus brought the blade down into his chest. The avian struggled for a moment, but a second stab ended his life with a spasm.

“Thanks,” Fleethoof said as he handed the knife back. “Come on, the others are waiting.”

The rest of the squad stood outside, waiting for them. The ponies moved up to the sixth level, leaving more explosives at the gatehouse as per usual, their stock beginning to dwindle. The sixth level consisted mostly of military buildings. Fleethoof was sure most of the army had to be here. As he had predicted, dozens of guards strolled around the plazas on this tier.

“Keep it tight, squad,” he whispered to his ponies, sneaking around behind a few buildings and producing his map. “Three buildings on this level. There, there, and… there. Those three.”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Sharp Shot asked while looking between the buildings he had pointed out. “Stick together or split up again?”

“Let’s split up. There’s lot of griffons here and we’ll be more noticeable if we’re one large group,” said the sergeant. “Groups of three, three, and four. Valiant, you take two and go to the armory. Sharp Shot, you and three others hit the bunkhouse. You two are with me on the barracks. Meet back here in one hour, max. Take your time and be careful.”

The ponies all nodded, then split up into their respective groups and went their separate ways. Left with his two ponies, Fleethoof motioned to move with a flick of his head. The trio made their way back across the main street to the other side of the city, following the map most of the way. Fleethoof wasn’t sure how to identify the barracks—until he came to the spot on the map.

Before him stood an elongated structure with decorative columns spanning its length. Statues of griffons in suits of armor and bearing weapons lined the front of the building. This must have been the barracks.

The barracks was dark and quiet as Fleethoof peered through a window on the first floor, looking for a way in. The front door had been ruled out as a safety precaution. The room he was spying in on looked like a mess hall. Three rows of long cafeteria-style tables filled the enormous room. All the lights were off and the tables were cleared and clean.

Taking a quick glance from side to side, the soldier smashed a pane of glass inward with his hoof. Reaching through the new hole in the window, he unlatched the window and opened it, slipping inside the building with his two partners. The warmth of the building was pleasant in contrast to the cold downpour outside.

“The barracks is pretty big, so we’ll have to use most of what we have left here,” he said, glancing back at the soldiers beside him. “Let’s put a charge in the lobby, one in the west wing, one in the east wing, and one on the support beam.”

“Gotcha, boss,” one said and headed off down the west wing.

“You, with me, I’m gonna get the east wing. You take the lobby and supports. Let’s move.”

Fleethoof headed off out of the mess hall and into the adjacent hallway. The long hallway spanned from one end of the barracks to the other. Doors lined the hall, and Fleethoof shuddered to think if there were weapons or sleeping griffons behind the doors. That was one guessing game he didn’t want to play tonight. The two ponies moved slow to remain stealthy. The floors were made of tile though, and their hooves clopped with loud echoes regardless. Overhead lights dimly lit the hallway, every other one switched on, casting the passageway in eerie light.

Fleethoof held his breath as they moved, hearing his heart pounding in his head, anxiety taking over. The silence was almost palpable, as was the tension. A deep clap of thunder sounded overhead, making the pony jump and sigh in relief. He was wound up enough as it was. When they finally reached the end of the hallway and went through the door at the end, the two ponies found themselves in the dimly lit concourse.

“Plant a charge up against the wall, then head upstairs and find the support beam. It should be near here,” said Fleethoof. “I’ll be in the east wing. Meet back in the mess hall when you’re finished.”

The soldiers separated. Fleethoof rushed down the east hallway as the other pony began to set up the explosives. The east corridor was just as creepy as the west, with the same unsettling lighting. Despite it unnerving him, the barracks were much easier than he had expected.

No sooner had that thought passed through his mind, the door in front of him opened up. Recoiling in surprise, the sergeant pressed his back against the wall beside the door and watched as a griffon stepped out and headed in the opposite direction he had come. Making his move, Fleethoof took to the air and dive-bombed the griffon, taking him down to the ground with a dull thud.

“Ow, what th—Mmprgh!” the griffon cried out, his words muffled as hooves wrapped around his neck and beak.

Fleethoof grit his teeth when he fought against the thrashing griffon, putting all the pressure he could manage around his enemy’s windpipe. The griffon’s wings beat fiercely in the air, trying to flip them over. The pegasus’s wings flapped in the opposite direction, keeping them steady as they struggled against one another.

As the fight wore on, he could feel the griffon’s efforts begin to weaken, slow, and grow more confused. Getting a second wind, Fleethoof doubled the effort he put into his chokehold. Within another minute the griffon had collapsed to the floor, lying defeated and dead.

Fleethoof was gasping for breath by the end, sweat slicking his muscles. He looked up and down the hallway, listening to the silence in the building and the heavy rainfall outside. No other griffons had woken up. His cover was safe. He grabbed the griffon’s body and dragged it back into the room he had come from. It was a small bunk room built for one. He wouldn’t be discovered.

Taking the combat knife the griffon had on him, Fleethoof set off down the hallway again, heading about halfway down the corridor. This was as good a spot as any. Doors were on both of his sides. He checked the left first—and flinched when he saw a sleeping griffon in the room. He recoiled away and closed the door, then moved to check the other one. It was a closet filled with rows of griffon armor and equipment. He grinned to himself—perfect.

He slipped inside and reached into his saddlebags, producing one of the explosive charges. He looked around for the perfect spot, and then set it up on a shelf above a set of armor. He was good to go. Stepping back out into the hall, he took off back towards the foyer. But when he reached the door and opened it, he froze in the doorway and felt the color drain from his face.

A griffon guard stood over the fallen body of one of his ponies. The avian was turning a charge over in his talons, inspecting it. He must have caught and killed the soldier when he was setting up the charges in the front of the barracks. Fleethoof’s eyes narrowed in fury, drawing the knife he took from the griffon and snuck up behind the griffon.

“Excuse me.” The griffon turned around when he heard the hostile tone of voice—and gasped as a blade tore through the air and sunk into his throat.

Fleethoof clenched his jaw as he tore the knife through his enemy’s throat, ripping it open and halfway decapitating the griffon. He watched as the body collapsed to the floor, gurgling and sputtering through the gouge in his neck until he bled out, his eyes glazing over as life faded from him. He didn’t bother trying to clean up the mess; it wouldn’t matter soon anyway.

He trotted over to his fallen comrade and knelt beside the body. He had been stabbed three times in the chest and once in the back. His eyes stared into space, locked in the frozen gaze of death. Fleethoof swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and gently closed the pony’s eyes with a delicate hoof.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I would’ve saved you if I could, but I can’t even take you with me… I’m so sorry…”

A flash of lightning through the window made Fleethoof look up. The rain had slowed outside and thunder was no longer heard. The storm was ending, and so was their cover and time. He was slow to rise to his hooves again and made his way back to the mess hall. His other soldier sat in wait at one of the tables. He looked up when Fleethoof walked in.

“Where’s Dauntless?” he asked.

Fleethoof gave him an apologetic look, then turned away. The ponies said nothing. Silent understanding passed between them. They snuck back out the windows out to the clear night. The rain had subsided, and the clouds were beginning to break and pass overhead.

“Sarge…” the pony muttered, tapping on the pegasus’s shoulder and pointing over to the horizon.

Off to the east, the black night sky was turning deep blues and purples, a sign of the coming sunrise.

“We’ve gotta find the others and move fast,” Fleethoof said. “We’re almost out of time.”

Traversing the streets of Asgard without the auditory and visual cover of the storm was much more dangerous. Both ponies had to take more time being vigilant of their surroundings than just moving about under cover. It put Fleethoof on edge. With the risk of being caught even greater, they all had to move fast and precise. They worked their way through the maze of roads and alleys until they reached the rally point.

“Sergeant Fleethoof, over here!”

The sudden call caught Fleethoof’s attention. Everypony else was already gathered in the shadows of a building, waving him over.

“Is everypony here?” he asked, doing a quick head count, and his expression began to drop. “We’re missing another one.”

“We lost him in the armory,” Valiant explained with a troubled sigh. “We were jumped by a couple guards on patrol.”

Fleethoof dropped a blank stare at the ground for a moment, then nodded. “I see.”

“Are we done now?” asked Valiant.

“Not yet. We still have to hit the last gatehouse before we can leave,” Fleethoof said, looking out at the sky again. “And we’re losing time fast. We have to move now.”

The dark sky was brightening at an alarming rate. Fleethoof watched the colors in the sky shift and distort with a growing knot in his stomach. Thankfully his squad was setting up the last of the charges. The eight pony group stood underneath the arch of the gateway, setting up the final two explosives on either side of the portal.

“How are we doing, squad?” he called back to his team as he watched the sun begin to rise.

“Almost done, Sarge.”

Fleethoof tightened his grip around his rifle, hoping they wouldn’t run out of time and they’d have to fight their way out of the city. He could hear the ponies shuffling about behind him.

Come on, everypony… Hurry up… he thought, nervous agitation making him shift his weight back and forth on his hooves.

“They’re set. Let’s get out of here,” Valiant said.

“All right, everypony move!” Fleethoof ordered, and the squad began making their way down the ramp again.

But as they reached the base of the ramp, a griffon patrol unexpectedly rounded onto the thoroughfare. Fleethoof skidded to a halt, his mind reeling, not exactly sure what to do. The unit turned and looked up at the ponies. They had no contingency for engaging groups of targets. There was a moment of hesitation between the groups. Time seemed to stand still.

A gunshot exploded behind Fleethoof’s head.

One of the griffons’ heads jerked backwards with a splatter of blood and his body fell to the cobblestone street. The deed had been done; the consequences had to be suffered now. Stealth was gone. It was time for war.

“Weapons free!” Fleethoof shouted, raising his rifle and felling another griffon with a single shot to the head.

Two more shots were fired and the last of the griffons were killed without getting a shot in edgewise. Voices began shouting out across the city, breaking the early morning silence. Their cover was blown.

“Move! Move!” Fleethoof said and charged down the street with his squad on his heels. “Get back to the exit!”

A shout came from their sides as a pair of guards made their way onto the street, only to be cut down in a quick burst of gunfire. An alarm began to sound behind them when they charged down to the fifth level of the city. Fleethoof’s lungs burned as they sprinted as fast as they could before the guards could rally to arms.

The horizon began to glow with bright gold light as the sun made its imminent approach known. Their time was up—but they were so close. They bolted down the ramp to the fourth level. Shots were fired behind them, hitting the ground around their galloping hooves. Snipers had taken to the towers and were opening fire on them.

“Just keep going! Dodge and weave!”

The squad broke formation, running in zigzag patterns across the road to make themselves harder targets. The shots became more frequent as they tried to take out the team. Fleethoof’s heart hammered in his chest so hard he thought it might burst. The muscle pumped stimulating adrenaline through his veins. They had to get out.

A cry came out from behind him. Fleethoof glanced over his shoulder to see one of the ponies in his squad go down, bullets hitting his fallen body. There was no need to check if he was still with them. His heart missed a beat and a moment of sorrow came over him for his lost ally. But he had no time to mourn now. He still had seven living ponies to save.

They had reached the third level now. The shrill cries of griffons rang out all around them en masse. They were almost free! A sudden rattling caught the soldiers' attention. Up ahead, the griffons had begun to close the gates on them. Fleethoof's eyes went wide with dread. They’d be trapped if they couldn’t get out.

“Go! Faster! Faster!”

Fleethoof ran with all his might, pushing himself past his limits. His limbs ached, his body was sore, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. But he got the satisfaction of bolting through the closing gate. Looking back again, he saw the others slip through just before it slammed closed. A triumphant grin split his lips. Second level. Not much more to go.

And then he looked ahead and his heart dropped.

He had forgotten the gate they still had to get through had been shut, trapping them on the second level. A line of griffon soldiers stood before the closed gate, taking aim at the ponies as they approached. Fleethoof skidded to a halt, trying to stop himself and turn on a dime down a nearby alley. Gunfire erupted in front of them. Two ponies recoiled in pain; one fell and never got up again.

“This way, everypony!” Valiant called out while he hoisted his wounded comrade on his back.

Fleethoof led what was left of his squad down the alley and through the back roads. There was only one more way out: they had to get to the culvert they had used to get up. He dashed through the streets, the white stones now glowing a faint pink as the sunlight reached over the city.

Time is up, time is up, we have to leave now, the pony thought amidst the frenzy.

And then there it was: the drain, up ahead! Fleethoof’s eyes lit up as he sprinted for it and dove into a slide underneath it. He crawled the rest of the way beneath it and slid down to the first level. They were only a couple blocks away now. They were almost home free!

He helped everypony climb down from the culvert when they slipped through one by one, and then followed them through the city streets by memory. There were a few warehouses, and Fleethoof wasn’t sure which one was the right one. Griffons were screeching and circling in the air above them, looking for the invaders. The ponies stayed low as they ran, praying they weren’t seen while they used the gridlock of streets and alleys as shelter. Fleethoof stopped for a moment to pull the map out again, double-checking the buildings.

“That one there!” He pointed out the warehouse that led to freedom.

A single gunshot struck the ground next to Fleethoof. He recoiled and yelped before taking off on a chase again. The warehouse was in sight; it was so close! Valiant was in the lead, heading right for the building. He threw his shoulder against the door, breaking it inward while everypony rushed in.

“Hurry! Down into the tunnel!” Valiant motioned each pony down before himself.

Fleethoof stood in the doorway of the warehouse, staring out at the enormous main gate to Asgard. Valiant looked to his squad leader, trying to see what he was doing. Fleethoof was turning the small remote around in his hoof, watching as the sun began to peek up across the land. He pressed the first red button. A soft beep resonated from the device.

“How’s this for gall, Alaric?” muttered Fleethoof and pressed the second button.

A massive explosion shook the ground beneath his hooves as fire consumed the wall. Large chunks of burning wood and charred rock flew through the sky in every direction. Multiple similar explosions could be heard throughout the city, lighting up the early morning with bright orange flames. The ground shook like an earthquake and threatened to toss the stallion from his hooves. A small smirk made its way across Fleethoof’s lips while he watched the wall begin to crumble around the explosion in a cloud of ash and dust.

Whistling ripped through the air when flaming pieces of rubble and rock fell around the city, smashing into nearby buildings. The collateral damage was nearly as bad as the explosions themselves. Screams and shouts ended the peaceful morning in a minute. Satisfied with what he had witnessed, Fleethoof turned and followed Valiant down the hole back into the tunnel. The earth shook around them while they descended, dust and dirt falling from the top. It was nothing short of a miracle that then tunnel hadn’t collapsed or flooded.

Both ponies crawled through the tight tunnel as fast as they could manage, the rest of the squad much further ahead than them. Every time a large piece of debris would make contact with the earth above, the tunnel would quiver around them.

Oh please, dear sweet Celestia, let us last five more minutes… Don’t let us die like this… he pleaded over and over in his head.

“Come on, Sarge! Faster!”

Thunderous pounding from above startled Fleethoof. The army must have been charging the city now that it was vulnerable and shaken up. The next thing he knew, Valiant was at the end and climbing the rope upward. He stood up once he could and began to arduous climb back up to the surface, his hooves scrambling for purchase in the smooth dirt walls of the tunnel. He could smell fresh air the closer he got to the top. It was like a beacon beckoning him back to safety.

Light spilled into his eyes when he finally reached the top. Hooves grabbed at him from all sides, helping to hoist him up out of the hole. Blinking to let his eyes adjust to the bright morning light, he took a good look around. All six of his squad had made it out safely. Captain Stratagem was smiling a wide grin and took his hoof to help him stand again.

“Well done, Sergeant! The walls are breached, the griffons are in total disarray, and the army is making its way inside!” she said in congratulations, leading him out of the tent to show him his handiwork in action. “The fight will still be the toughest we’ve ever had, but thanks to your team we have a tremendous advantage!”

Fleethoof looked out across the field in bewilderment. The entire Equestrian army had unified into one solid mass and was surging across the field into the city. The once proud wall and intimidating gate now stood crippled and demolished. Beyond it, the city was covered in smoke while fires ravaged the metropolis. The powerful citadel of Asgard looked broken.

“That was some impressive work, Sergeant. I’m very proud of you—and I know Captain Phalanx would be too.”

Fleethoof forced a smile, then nodded once. “Thank you, Captain. We lost some good ponies though.”

“I know, and I am very sorry,” she replied. A soft sigh slipped past her lips. “But I’m afraid your work isn’t done yet.”

“Oh, I know.” Fleethoof unslung his rifle from his shoulder. “We still have a battle to be getting to.”

“That’s not what I was referring to, Sergeant.”

He looked up at Stratagem with confusion in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Last night, while you were in the city, we received an urgent report from Skyfall,” she began, pausing for a moment and shaking her head with a weak chuckle. “I should’ve known it was a trap. It had all been too easy…”

“Captain, what happened?”

“An elite griffon force attacked Skyfall two days ago. It’s a two day journey to the city from here, which is why we're only receiving this now,” Stratagem explained. “The ponies we had garrisoned there were overwhelmed. We lost Skyfall, Sergeant. It’s our only way out. The griffons let us take it so they could trap us in their own lands.”

Fleethoof could feel his expression drop with his stomach. Cold realization gripped his heart and soul. If Skyfall was lost, then their only way out was blocked. They were trapped like rats.

“They attacked Skyfall two days ago? But… But the ceasefire—”

“They broke the ceasefire.”

Fleethoof scowled. Those treacherous griffons…

“But that’s not the worst of it.”

“There’s more? How could it get worse?!”

“During our negotiations, Princess Celestia had sent a summons back to Equestria requesting our ambassador and a VIP delegate to attend the summit as well in an attempt to replace the hatred Alaric had put in the griffons’ hearts with love and respect. They arrived in Skyfall two days ago. They’ve been taken hostage.”

Gunfire started over at Asgard—lots of gunfire. But Fleethoof couldn't pay attention to it. He was too busy focusing on the grave information he was receiving. Things had gone to hell in a matter of hours. And even though he knew what her answer was going to be, he had to ask the question anyway.

“What do you want my squad to do, Captain?”

“I’m sending you to Skyfall to assess the situation. See if the city can be retaken and liberate the hostages. One is a very important pony and must be rescued and kept alive at all costs. Get them out of the Griffon Kingdom and back to Equestria, Sergeant.”

Fleethoof blinked in surprise. “Back to Equestria? You just want me to abandon the war like that? With all due respect, Captain, you must be joking!”

“No, Sergeant, I’m not,” Stratagem remarked with a slow shake of her head.

“You can’t be serious!” Fleethoof laughed in disbelief. “The most important events are here! We’re needed here at the front lines! You can’t just send us home!”

“I’m not sending you home, Fleethoof, and yes, I do expect you to follow my orders and get those ponies out of here,” the captain scolded. “Every part of this war is important. You should know this. Right now, I need you to do this and only this, then wait for further instructions.”

A long moment of tense silence passed between the two as they stared at one another. Despite his passion, Fleethoof’s will bent first. He was reluctant, but sighed and nodded all the same.

“Who’s the VIP?”

Captain Stratagem shrugged. “Don’t know, the report didn’t say. Just one ambassador and one VIP.”

“So it’s not the princesses?” asked Fleethoof. “How did they get out of the Griffon Kingdom if they didn’t pass through Skyfall?”

“Who knows? They probably teleported or flew. They can do both, you know. You should keep an eye out for their entourage along the road if they did evacuate. They’ll be able to aid you.”

Fleethoof took another deep breath and heavy sigh. “All right, Captain… We’ll go to Skyfall. But I will return to do my part, I swear it.”

“Oh, you’d better,” Stratagem said, smirking a little. “But Asgard isn’t your fight, Sergeant Fleethoof. Not today. Skyfall is.”

He nodded and turned to his squad. Everypony looked as visibly distressed and shaken as he felt. He could empathize, but now was not the time to be bitter about the course of events. Ponies needed their help, ponies of great significance, and they had to go.

“Everypony get your belongings together on the double!” he ordered. “Move, colts! We have to get back to Skyfall now!”

Journal,

Negotiations died yesterday. I would have written in you about it when it happened, but I’ve been a bit… preoccupied. King Alaric refused to give any leeway in the war, so the fighting is back on now. The princesses seemed really distressed about the whole situation—I can’t blame them. I had been hoping for a happy end to the war too.

But this is war, and happy endings have no place here…

I’ve been learning a lot from Captain Stratagem, but I’m sure you’ve seen all my notes in you. I really feel like I’m coming into my own now, Journal—like I’m really figuring out who I’m supposed to be and what I have the potential to do. It’s neat being able to fully grasp and understand theories, plans, and concepts I never knew before!

But sadly, Journal, that is all the good news I have to report. The rest is dark… very dark. My squad and I have been appointed to special operations tasks. We snuck into Asgard last night and set up explosives at the gates and key points to sabotage the griffons before they could make the first move. I lost four good, loyal ponies in there… They gave their lives with exceptional bravery to serve the greater good.

Asgard is crippled and weakened now. Alaric is going to wake up and find his city burning and invaded by the might of Equestria’s finest. I wish I could see the look on his face.

We’re headed back to Skyfall now. A griffon task force attacked our garrison there during the ceasefire when they were at their most vulnerable. Even with reinforcements, they were overwhelmed. It makes me wonder just how inexperienced our troops were, or how many griffons we’re going to run into. There were two civilians caught in the attack: the Equestria ambassador and an unnamed VIP.

Our mission is to scout out Skyfall and assess the damage done to the city. We have to figure out how to take it back, or else the army will be trapped in the Griffon Kingdom between two fronts. We also have to get the two hostages out of there and back to Equestria. It hurts me to leave the war behind and all the ponies that could use our help, but Stratagem is right. As much as I hate to admit it, we’re needed elsewhere right now, and we have a job to get done.

Looks like I’ll be seeing Equestria again sooner than I expected. But first, it’s time to pay Skyfall another visit.

Comments

[Silverstein]

Another great chapter!

Silver out!

[Treilacl]

Another good chapter. I have to say I enjoyed the sneaking about. There were a few points I was sure that their cover was going to be blown but then they managed to pull it out.

One thing I felt like I should point out though is the use of "sneak attack" ...maybe this is just me but I didn't feel like "sneak attack" fit. Because it wasn't so much of an attack as it was sabotage... then again maybe sabotage isn't quiet right either... ah well. Good work!

Have to say you have me curious as to whom (is it who or whom? Do you know?) those two civilians are. Looking forward to the next update.

[SIGAWESOME]

As of now, I’m assigning your squad to special operations for the extent of the war.

Does not that also mean that you and your squads, along with the scouts, are now the tip-of-the-spear expendables for the rest of the army?

During our negotiations, Princess Celestia had sent a summons back to Equestria, requesting our ambassador and a VIP delegate to attend the summit as well, in an attempt to quell the hatred Alaric had put in the griffons’ hearts. They arrived in Skyfall—two days ago. They’ve been taken hostage.

Gilda perhaps?

“So it’s not the princesses?” asked Fleethoof.

If that were the case, you could identify Skyfall's remains by the ring of scorched ash surrounding the softly glowing lake of lava...
I cannot imagine Luna would have any reservations about cutting loose and bringing her power to bear.

[MariusIoannesP]

Alaric’s steely, narrowed gaze turned toward the pony. “I think I’ll start with you, Captain.”
The griffon and the pony rose at the same time, both drawing handguns on each other simultaneously.

What kind of monarch goes to a negotiating table with a handgun! That's like a Hitler move!

[Strythio]

3538395

Considering that he is in a room with other officers and two princesses that could have killed him with a single blast of their horns... I don't blame him.

Seriously though, if you hated ponies and felt that they were out to destroy you, and the two most powerful ones were sitting in the room, trying to negotiate a peace they knew was not going to happen... Would you have gone unarmed?