> Do you believe in Ghosts?
>  by Material Defender
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Deployment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: This short film is highly recommended viewing if you're not familiar with Ghost Recon, especially Future Soldier. This film gives a good idea of the kind of armaments, armor, and technologies the Ghosts have at their disposal. If you're already a Tom Clancy fan, then enjoy.




To: Captain James Talbot
From: Acting General Michael S. Noriega

Captain, you have standing orders to track down and bring back Julius Maynard. We've finally received location on where the traitor is; SOCOM will update you further with a full info dump. I must warn you, Captain, Maynard can well be considered insane; briliant, but insane. He's a genius, and he's outsmarted almost all our attempts to track him down, eluding even our best NSA and CIA operatives. He is dangerous, make no mistake. Take him in alive if you can; we need to know what he knows, but if he tries anything you think is out of place, kill him.

Another thing: we know that your entire squad was killed when the war began, and I apologize in advance for having you run so many operations solo or with OGAs. I hope that the new Ghost squad we've managed to put together for you a couple of years ago has turned out well. I won't lie to you, Captain, you're going to need to work together to make it out of this one alive. Maynard is just too important to leave running amok. Do whatever needs to be done to take him back, dead or alive. Important he may be, he still committed treason, and he's going to pay for it. I'm giving you full authorization to anything you need in the arsenal, but nothing more; anything that would give you away cannot be used as Maynard will have an escape plan prepared.

Do not come back empty-handed. I will also be sending messages directly to your squad to let them know how important this is.




SOCOM Field Intelligence
Classified: Only Authorized Eyes May View

Unit Deployment: United States Army, Ghost Recon, Anvil Squad
Location of deployment: Fortaleza, Brazil
Date of Deployment: 09/XX/2020

Deployed Soldiers:
Captain James "Talon" Talbot, Squad Lead
Lieutenant Kevin "Shell" Pastor, Rifleman
Corporal Manuel "Fuse" Mendoza, Demolitions
Corporal Burt "Scope" Raymond, Sniper

Available Resources:
Heavy Ordnance Arsenal: GRANTED
Field Operations Arsenal: GRANTED
Intelligence Operations Arsenal: GRANTED
HAMMER Drones: DENIED
Infantry Support: DENIED
Close Air Support: DENIED
Cavalry Support: DENIED

NOTE //FROM SOCOM//: General Noriega has deemed this a discretionary operation, but stealth is suggested. Unsuppressed weapons allowed, but do not make noise or it will give you away. Quartermaster advises using suppressed secondaries.

DOSSIER: FORTALEZA

Fortaleza, like most of South America, was spared the onslaught of being bombarded with ICBMs at the beginning of the war. Most of the city is intact, if not overcrowded due to refugees pouring in from the major cities like Rio, which unfortunately wasn't spared. Crime is rampant, the area is dangerous. Local militia groups run the city and will shoot anything they think is out of place. Agents are in place to deploy Anvil north of the city, near the rainforest. It's the only option we have as Maynard can't spare that many of his men to watch the entire coastline, and he has eyes in the city.

DOSSIER: THE VILLA

The villa is located in the highlands due west of Fortaleza. Maynard has taken upon himself to seemingly construct and modify the place heavily; we only have plans from the initial construction, use those as you will. He will have most likely turned the place into a bunker base of sorts, but our intel suggests that he hates over-reliance on technology, so he will have more conventional safeguards in place. Be careful. Our agents couldn't get close enough as Maynard's men would have spotted them.

DOSSIER: MAYNARD'S MEN

Best suggestion would be mercenaries, hired off the black market. Combat experience levels may vary, but expect these men to have done serious soldier time. Maynard has shown no favor towards any faction participating in the war so far; it would seem he's trying to stay out of the crossfires as long as he can, so his men aren't from any specific nationality. But he has made deals with a number of organizations that the NSA has seen working in-country within the past decade.

Expect them to be armed with the best that the black market can offer. Numbers unknown, expect at least 50. Patrol patterns may fluctuate as they have been there for over half a year with nothing to do.

DOSSIER: JULIUS MAYNARD

Julius Maynard is a former intelligence analyst that worked in the NSA, specifically for OGAs that are classified. He worked the system during his entire time there, selling information and acting as a mole, until he overplayed his hand at the beginning of the war, revealing his true nature after he was caught dealing as an information broker on the black market. He had substantial connections as he deployed his own armed force against NSA forces during his escape from the DC facility, where he then seemingly disappeared.

Maynard is a class-A genius, a prodigy in the fields of science. Unfortunately, he was also a bit crazy. Reports from coworkers indicated that he often distrusted others and rarely, if ever, divulged any personal information about himself. It would seem he used his position to wipe his records somehow as that's all we have to go on him. However, a coworker reports that he has a dislike for over-reliance on technology as he thinks everything can be hacked; he prefers doing things the old-fashioned way.

A number of top US and EU scientist kidnappings were assumed to be connected to him. Top-level physicists and engineers in their fields, just kidnapped out of nowhere. Whatever Maynard is working on, it can't be good.




To: Captain James Talbot
From: Lieutenant Kevin Pastor

Looks like it's that time again, eh, boss? Almost two years now. You've been a good captain to us all. God knows what we all felt like after we learned that our squads were KIA'd within a week at the beginning. I know Fuse is still dealing with his loss; he had a family in Los Angeles when it got hit by the Russians, and they didn't make it out. Scope's been as cold as he usually is, he's about as much career soldier as you are.

And don't worry about me, I'm fine, and so's my family. Up in Montana at the refugee camps now, since they started moving all the civilians away from the coast for their safety, but it's gonna be a bit bittersweet to leave 'em like that...

Shell




To: Lieutenant Kevin Pastor
From: Captain James Talbot

You've been a good LT, Kevin, no doubt about that. Nice to see that your family is doing well. 

On to the mission: Maynard is a real screwball, and we'll need to be at the top for this mission to go right.

Keep an eye on Fuse when you can. I know his loss is hard. He came and talked to me about it a few weeks back. He's getting over it now, after I reminded him that we're Ghosts, and we still have a job to do. He could still use a few more talks before he gets it out of his system.

Talon




To: Captain James Talbot
From: Corporal Burt Raymond

Good to go and ready to kill, boss. SOCOM says we'll be deploying from sea. Looking forward to it. Haven't been to Fortaleza for a while. Traveling from Bragg right now to the Constitution, the aircraft carrier's gonna be taking us a bit into the Atlantic before we air-drop in with a Zodiac.

I saw that we got the green light to the heavy ordnance. Keep the fireworks away from Fuse and we'll have less accidents.

Scope




To: Captain James Talbot
From: Corporal Manuel Mendoza

I reflected on that talk we had a while back, you know? Just felt really shitty. How all of my brothers and sisters and my parents died, but I'm still alive. Then you talked to me. The world's a shitty place right now, but everything just clicked. I know we have a job to do, and that's what I signed up for.

Know you're my boss, but you've also been a real amigo to all of us. Gracias for that.

I heard we got access to the heavy ordnance. I really want to get my hands on those nasty shoulder-mounted rocket pods that I saw Bones' squad using in Russia. That's some real man-portable ordnance, you know? Man, I must be feeling a lot better than I thought, just running off my mouth about explosives again, haha. It's going to be good to see the squad again.

But Scope still kind of scares me sometimes, you know? He's like a robot with that rifle of his.

Fuse




To: Lieutenant Kevin Pastor, Corporal Burt Raymond, Corporal Manuel Mendoza
From: Captain James Talbot

I'll be seeing you all on the Constitution. As you may well know from the info dump, we're going after a serious screwball. I need all of you to be in your A-game if we want to make it through this, and I'll expect no less from Ghosts.

We deploy at 1730 hours. Get yourselves some sleep until then.

Talon
> Entry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Fortaleza's a goddamned mess," Pastor said. "The whole damn city has a fire every freaking mile or something."

"Stuff it and keep quiet, Shell," Talbot shot back, moving the boat closer to the edge of the beach. The fires and smokes of Fortaleza brightened the sky in the distance against the lowering sun, as occasional volleys of gunfire could be heard coming from it.

"Used to be a nice place," Mendoza chimed.

"Used to, not anymore, Fuse," Raymond said. "It could do with some spring cleaning sometime."

"Of course you'd think that, Scope. Of course you would."

Talbot killed the the engine on the boat, leaving it to float to shore noiselessly. The rubber floats made a slight crump when it hit the beachline, the sound of the crashing waves masking it.

"Alright, here we are, move it," Talbot said. The four members of Anvil Squad quietly disembarked the small transport and immediately made for the treeline, and advanced through the forest unchallenged. They had a lot of ground to cover, and would have to make it quick as the sun went down.

Their boots made heavy marks in the dirt as they quickly advanced through the rainforest, their exoskeleton frames allowing them a great deal more speed than most soldiers. The sun was quickly lowering and soon the squad had to start using their nightvision in order to traverse through the forest. It was an uphill climb, but easy to navigate enough as the villa had a road leading directly to it in the midst of the sprawling forest.




By the time the sun had gone down, they reached the outer perimeters of the villa, making out guards patrolling along the large whitewashed walls.

Talbot motioned for Raymond to scan the area, turning up a number of red diamonds as enemy targets were labeled on their crosscoms.

"Damn, that's a lot..." Mendoza whistled. "Over, under, or through?"

"Over," Talbot said, deftly running up the tree-obscured slope and silently leaning up against the wall. The others quickly followed suit as the two red diamonds directly on the walls passed by them. Talon held up his hand and tapped the grappling hook on it, and the others nodded their confirmation. He quickly shot the hook up to the top of the wall, and zipped up quickly, landing silently on the wall.

The two guards patrolling the wall hadn't noticed anything. Talbot quickly pulled out his sidearm and motioned for his squad to follow. He closed the distance shortly and motioned for Pastor to pull a silent kill. Talbot shot the first guard in the back of his head while Pastor quickly dispatched of the other with the knife. There were no sounds, and the bodies were now obscured by the walls around them.

"Their comms are silent. Maybe they didn't expect anything today," Pastor said. The other red diamonds on the crosscom showed guards lazily moving about, some drinking and some playing cards. "Definitely didn't expect anything today."




The four had leaned up against the wall, quietly watching the red diamonds moving and discussing their next move, when a voice broke out.

"What the hell are you imbeciles doing?! I'm not paying you all to stand around and slack off! Get back to your patrols!"  Maynard shouted.

"There's the man of the hour," Raymond said. "We should just tag him and bag him right now while he's still outside."

"No, there are too many guards around. Slacking off as they are, I don't want to see how well they can use those weapons," Talbot said. Maynard was still railing against his guards as they begrudgingly returned to their patrols and stopped sitting around, ending with a huge line of expletives and huffing back into his villa.

"What a charmer. Bet he's real fun at parties," Mendoza said.

"Stuff it, Fuse. Let's move. Camo on," Talbot said. The four activated their camouflage, blending in against the white wall they had just been leaning against. "Scope, you're on overwatch. Fuse, Shell, you're with me."

"On it, boss," Raymond said, quietly holstering his MR8, running inside the guard tower the formerly-alive guards had been approaching, and climbed up a ladder. There was sounds of a minor scuffle as they heard him dispatch a sniper. "And he's down. On overwatch, boss."

"Right. Let's move." The three quietly hopped over the barrier and landed with a slight thud, away from the patrolling guards. Some of them had already return to their lax state and were drinking again.

"Looks clear through the courtyard, move on ahead," Scope said through the crosscom.

The three invisible figures ran across the courtyard, and bounded around the corner of the main building, finding a back door, completely unguarded. The few guards that had been patrolling had passed through this area several minutes ago, and were on the front side of the compound now, leaving plenty of time before they came back.

"Shell, mirror under the door. Fuse, you're on watch," Talbot said, taking up a flanking position on the door while Pastor activated a snake cam underneath. The guards were still jovially conversing at the front of the building.

"Looks clear. Breach, boss?"

"Negative. Silent entry."

Pastor nodded as he silently picked the lock to the door, and the three entered, finding themselves in a kitchen of sorts. Mendoza closed the door, and gave a thumbs up to Talbot, letting him know it was safe to proceed. The trio walked down the shelf-strewn hallway, and heard arguing in the distance. It was coming from another room in the kitchen. Talbot motioned for them to stop so they could listen.

"Good? Good?! You think this trash..." They heard a plate breaking on the floor. "...is going to be acceptable on the day of my greatest triumph? Do you realize just what I've accomplished, compared to pathetic excuses for men like yourselves? Hmm? Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you tried to poison me? You're working for someone, aren't you? Aren't you?"

There were responses in Portuguese from the kitchen, fraught with fear.

"No. No! You're lying. I know you are. You're working for them! I can't trust you. I can't trust anyone! You know, yes, you know, but I'll make sure they don't." They heard a gunshot and maniacal laughing. "I can't trust any of you!" More screaming, more gunshots, and then more manic laughing as the voice walked through a door.

"Jesus Christ," Mendoza said. "This guy's his own brand of crazy."

"And it looks like he's about to wrap up whatever he's got in store. We better stop him, and soon," Pastor said.

"And that gunfire might have attracted attention. Status, Scope?"

"Nothing going on out here. I think they actually expect this crazy fuck to fire his gun at people, 'cause these guards aren't doing crap," Raymond said.

"Works for us," Mendoza said. "We might fire ours, too."

"Only if we need to," Talbot said. "It looks like he left. We should continue following him and see what he's up to." They entered the kitchen proper to see half a dozen bodies strewn on the floor, blood pooling around them.

"Oh, man..." Mendoza said. "Poor bastards..."

"Ignore it. Keep moving," Talbot said, stepping over the white-clad bodies and avoiding the blood as he made for the door on the other side of the room, the other two following suit.

They opened the door and found themselves in a well-furnished hallway, with only one way to exit.

"Only one way now," Pastor said. They proceeded in a bounding overwatch down the hallway and around a few corners, and before long found themselves in front of another door. There was a disturbing lack of guards within the villa, as there normally should be a dozen or more in here.

"This door seems a little... out of place. Who the hell would build such a whack hallway just to make it lead to one door?" Mendoza asked.

"Maynard, Fuse. Prepare for entry," Talbot said. "I don't know how big this compound goes for, but I'll be damned if we're going to be lost in this place. Go when ready."

The three burst through the door and found themselves in a well-lit atrium, with an intricate crystal chandelier hanging above them.

"Well, that solves that, then. Scope, get inside. Use the back door we came in through."

"Roger, Talon, moving now," Raymond acknowledged. The three stayed put until they saw Raymond's crosscom beacon quickly approaching them, and eventually in front of them as he opened the door. "Nice place he's got here."

"Let's move," Talbot said. The four invisible Ghosts now proceeded down the primary hallway in front of the main doors, passing by a multitude of paintings and antique sculptures.

"Wow... some nice stuff he's got here. Old Chinese artifacts, way back from the Qing dynasties... and there's a replica Easter Island head... damn, that thing is huge..." Mendoza commented.

"Didn't figure you for a history junkie, Fuse," Pastor said.

"I like it enough. History can be pretty cool if you want it to be," he said, looking at a bust of some unknown philosopher as he passed it.

"Where the hell did he go?" asked Talbot, as they reached a dead end in the hall. "This hallway doesn't even go anywhere!" There was a number of sculptures and a large painting in the small room there.

"Uh, sir," Mendoza said.

"What?" Talbot turned around. Mendoza had knocked the head over on the bust, revealing a button underneath and a keycode pass.

"Seriously?" asked Pastor. "What, is he hiding the Batcave down there or something?"

"Don't push it yet, we need to--"

A smash cut Talbot off as he heard more cursing and footsteps walking down the stairs that joined the atrium to the second story. "Useless! All of you! Esteban, your men are completely worthless! Tell them to stand guard and they can't even do that! It's a good thing I've assigned all of their worthless hides to perimeter patrol! Remind me to hire some real soldiers to guard the villa proper after this is all over."

"Take cover, get out of the hallway now," Talbot whispered, as the four took up positions around various sculptures to stay out of the hallway, their invisible forms blending in with the shadows.

Maynard came walking down the hallway angrily, with a uniformed man in tow. "Your men are an utter joke! You should go check outside, they've done nothing but stand around! And the chefs tried to poison me, so I killed them. You can't trust anybody around here!" The man called Esteban said nothing as he curtly followed the rambling Maynard, who stopped just short of the button.

"Oh, damn me to hell! You're all driving me up the wall, I've completely forgotten to close this damn bust head! Why did I choose a bust?! Imbecile," Maynard muttered as he pushed in a plethora of buttons and slammed the big one on top. The large painting at the end of the hallway rumbled upon, revealing a secret passage of tunnels underneath, and slammed the head back onto place. "Come, Esteban! My plan is reaching the final stages, and we need to oversee every little detail!" He continued his ranting as he walked through the doorway.

"In, now," Talbot whispered. The four quickly made their way behind the bulkhead before it closed with a loud thud.

"Well, isn't this just cozy?" Pastor said. "Got himself a whole little molehill under this villa."

"We better move fast. It looks like he's probably got some WMD just waiting to be used," Mendoza said.

"Yeah. Let's move," Talbot said.




The complex was a seemingly endless maze of hallways and dead ends, or so it seemed. Had they not been following Maynard, they most likely would have gotten completely lost.

"And here we are!" Maynard shouted, entered a large room. "The final stage of the Rift Project! Isn't it just beautiful, Esteban?" The man nodded, but said nothing. "Ah, let's go check on our busy workers."

"Excuse me, Doctor Harvey!" Maynard said, walking up behind a man in a lab coat standing in front of a dizzying amount of computer monitors. "How goes my project?"

The man looked over his shoulder and held a glaze behind his glasses before responding. "Things are coming along just fine, Mr. Maynard. Should be ready to go in less than an hour."

"Excellent!" Maynard cheered. "And now since that's out of the way... Esteban! Deal with the rest of them!"

"What? What the hell are you doing?" Harvey asked.

"Simple, my dear doctor. I'm going to rid myself of the unnecessary. Since all I need now is for you to finish the project, the rest aren't needed! Prepare the machine for deliverance!"

"You son of a b--" Harvey snarled, but was cut off as Maynard pointed a gun at him.

"Activate the machine now," Maynard said, in a more serious tone.

"We haven't run any preliminary tests yet," Harvey said slowly. "We don't even know if the machine will do what it wants us to."

"But that's what you're here for, Doctor! Who better to do the first test than the man who helped to put all of this together!" Maynard said, haphazardly swinging his pistol around. Harvey felt his stomach sink.




Anvil Squad stood waiting at the entrance to the room, watching all of this.

"Boss, that other guy's going to kill the rest of the science team. They're secondary objectives. Orders?" Pastor asked.

"Deal with him," Talbot responded. Pastor wordlessly approached the uniformed man, knife in hand, as Maynard continued his little tirade against Harvey.

The science team was located in a closed-off room protected by glass walls, observing instruments and seemingly oblivious to the armed man that was about to enter their room. They all turned their heads as the door opened, and panicked when they saw Esteban raise his gun at them, only to see the cloaked Pastor pull back his arm, disarm the gun, and then run his knife into the underside of Esteban's head. The body dropped without a word, and Pastor quickly pulled it towards a big pile of boxes as the science team stood shocked, trying to make sense out of the man who'd just been lynched out of the thin air.

"Target neutralized," Pastor flatly said. "What now?"

"We get Maynard," Talbot said. "Anvil, prepare to engage." The entire squad checked their MR8s to make sure they were ready, before they approached Maynard.

"Hurry, doctor! You're delaying the coming of my greatest triumph!"

Harvey said nothing as he continued working on the computer, and the machine whirred to life.

"Yes! Yes!" Maynard shouted. "Come with me, doctor, you're going to test this yourself!" He grabbed Harvey and pulled him towards the entrance of the circular portal of energy.

"He's going to try something! Neutralize him!" Talbot said, breaking into a sprint as his cloak broke.

"Aha!" Maynard shouted, turning around to fire at Talbot. "I knew it! I knew the guards were being lazy! Who are you? United States? Russia? European Federation? No matter! You won't catch me, I've already made it! You'll all die in this pathetic shithole while I start a new life elsewhere! Come, doctor!"

"Take him out!" Talbot shouted. Anvil Squad started firing at Maynard as he fired back. The bullets seemed to do nothing as they were seemingly pulled in by the portal itself.

"Shit!" Mendoza shouted. "Our guns aren't doing crap!"

Maynard laughed as he pushed Harvey through the portal, now pulsing with blindingly white energy. "Farewell, spooks! Have a fun time burning in this hell you've made for yourselves!" He walked through the portal.

"Orders, sir?" Pastor shouted worriedly.

Talbot didn't like this. Not one bit. Here Maynard was working on something that only appeared in science fiction novels. Then again, the dossier did say he was a genius. He wasn't trying to play his hand in the war, he was trying to get away from it! But they had their objectives, and they knew what had to be done, but he was pretty sure the operation manual didn't cover pursuit in portals of any kind. The portal swirled with energies as the four stood in front of it, pondering what to do.

"You have to go and get Doctor Harvey back!" Talbot turned to see another glasses-wearing scientist looking at him, albeit much younger than Harvey.

"We also have to bring in Maynard," Talbot said. "And don't worry, we will."

"Then you have no time! This portal is absorbing energy straight from what's left of Fortaleza's power grid! You have to go now before it shuts down!"

"Can't we just power it up again and go through when we're ready?"

"No! It takes months to reconfigure the system after every use, and more power that Fortaleza won't have for much longer! If you don't go after him now, there's no telling if we'll get another chance!" the scientist said.

Talbot checked his crosscom. There was no signal as the complex was too far into the mountain, and no way and no time to contact SOCOM. He sighed.

"Then in we go. Anvil Squad, into the portal!" The four stepped forwards into the white swirling light.

"We'll keep things running on this side!" the scientist said. "Good luck!"

Talbot felt his body lurch as he was pulled into the strange white light.
> The Other Side
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Talbot opened his eyes. He felt his right hand close his grip, feeling that his MR8 was still in his hands. He was... somewhere. He was staring at a high arched ceiling, made of something marble, very bright. There was stained glass in the room, though he couldn't tell as his head was still spinning.

Pastor's face obscured his field of vision. "Boss? You okay? How many fingers am I holding up?" He held up two fingers.

"Ugh... two..."

Pastor looked away from him. "He's fine!" He stood up and offered Talbot a hand. "Come on, boss, a little fall shouldn't knock you out of commission."

Talbot took it and looked around as he righted himself. "Where the hell are we?" It was a wide hallway, lined with red carpet, with a runed door at the end with lots of inscriptions. The stained glass was ornate and filled with carvings of some kind depicting events.

"Hell if I know. But I bet Maynard's around here somewhere."

"Right. Cloak up, Anvil. Let's track him down."




"What the hell is that?" Mendoza said, peeking around a corner. There was a large set of double doors and a couple of quadruped beings decked in armor that stood guard in front of it. "Does that thing have... wings? It looks like a horse."

"A pegasus," Pastor said. "I thought they weren't real."

Talbot's brow furrowed in concentration. "Just where the hell are we...?"

"Not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure," Raymond said, looking around behind them as rearguard. "They could be hostile. Recommend we avoid, boss."

"Agreed. Keep moving, scope out the hallways. We need to find Maynard, he can't have gone far if these things are everywhere."

They continued pass the hallway, passing by more guards, and eventually found themselves on a balcony overlooking a garden.

"Whoa... definitely not in Kansas," Mendoza said. The four stood looking over a great view of a city, apparently on top of a mountain as they noticed the valley down below. The city was quite far up as the clouds floated beneath it. A neatly-trimmed garden sat below the balcony.

"Wherever we are, it's inhabited, and most likely by sentient beings," Pastor said. "I don't think animals live in buildings and make gardens."

"Oh, great, first contact," Mendoza said. "And in the middle of a war? I sort of thought we'd make extraterrestrial contact in, oh, I don't know, space?"

Talbot cleared his throat. "Enough talking, we have a crazy genius to find."

"Right, boss." 

The four then continued looking around the castle, silently observing the many guards and the various rooms that they used. They had libraries, kitchens, living quarters, everything you would expect from a perfectly sentient species. There was no trace of Maynard anywhere. The castle was huge and expansive, decorated and ornate, so the Ghosts quickly found themselves turning up no leads.

"Oh, shit..." Mendoza said. "Do you think maybe we ended up somewhere else?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Pastor said. "This portal stuff was always a bit tricky, even in the books."

"Doesn't matter, keep looking," Talbot said, trying to keep his squad's attention. They happened upon a great hall of sorts, of what seemed to be a throne room or a place for royalty to gather and discuss. There was a large white creature of sorts standing at the top, with various guards throughout the room.

"Whoa... is that a...?" Mendoza said.

"A unicorn?" Pastor said disbelievingly. "And with pegasus wings? God, I'm glad we have our cloaking."

"Doesn't look like he's in here either, boss," Raymond said. "He could be anywhere on this planet, for all we know."

The white unicorn being was talking with one of her... assistants about something, then turned her head towards the door that they'd come from. "Please send in the first petitioner!"

"Oh, my God, they speak English," Mendoza gasped. The four quickly cleared out of the hallway as the first pony entered to petition the royal unicorn about issues about farming.

"Well, they don't seem to be any worse for wear for having a monarchy," Pastor said.

"Yeah, well, how the hell are we supposed to know there ain't some crazy Crusades going on out there or something?" Mendoza shot back.

"Mendoza, they're horses... ponies, too small to be horses," Pastor responded. "Pretty sure they can't really use a weapon for crap. Man, what's with their colors?" he said, watching a pink pastel pony that had just entered the throne room after the previous petitioner had left.

"Focus on the mission, guys," Raymond said.

"Come on, we've been searching this place for God knows how long now," Mendoza whined.

"We'll be bound to find him eventually."

"This cloak juice won't run for forever, you know."

"Then we find somewhere to hide."

"Stuck on an alien world and we're going to hide in some broom closet," Mendoza laughed. "That's just real nice."

The four then decided on leaving the throne room and looking for a place to hide when there was the sound of gasps and the sound of an explosion coming from it. Talbot quickly turned around and found a glowing white orb there, suspended in the air. Harvey came walking out of it, stumbling and then rolling on the floor, followed by Maynard, who pranced in with a look of success on his face.

"Ah, a new world! You there, Doctor, you should consider yourself lucky. Do get up, you're making me look bad."

"You crazy--" Maynard kicked Harvey in the face.

"Ah-ah, no talking back." He still had his gun, and pulled Harvey up. The other ponies in the room stood in shock as the pegasus guards surrounded them. "Ah, new creatures of this world. Allow me to demonstrate what I do to those who try to corner me." He fired at the ceiling, and the guards warily jumped back. "Good. So we understand each other."

"Oh, shit," Mendoza said. "Orders, sir? Advise we intervene. Like, right now."

"Do it!" Talbot shouted as he uncloaked. Anvil Squad surrounded Maynard behind the pegasus guards, the guards themselves also pulling a double take at the humans who had just materialized out of nowhere.

"Ah, the spooks. I see you decided to come after me," Maynard said. "No matter." He grabbed Harvey and put the gun to his head. "I'll just make sure you play along with me."

"By order of the United States government, Julius Maynard, I am placing you under arrest."

Maynard laughed his insane laugh again. "Really? And what are you going to do if I disobey, spook? US laws don't hold up in another world, you should know that. I know how much your generals want me alive. I know lots of things, perhaps we could make a trade?" His gun was still pointed at Harvey, who slowly shook his head.

"No deal, Maynard."

"Just what is going on here?" the white unicorn/pegasus boomed, now descending her throne and approaching the spectacle.

"Ah, yes, your, erm, Majesty," Maynard cleared his throat. "I am a dignitary from another world, and these men were sent to kill me by those who would rather not intend my species be able to do so. If you'd be so kind, do you think you could perhaps deal with them?"

"He's lying. This man has committed treason in our world and we're here to bring him in," Talbot countered.

"Oh, and just what would the charges be? Do tell me, I'm actually interested in how long of a list your government has made for me," Maynard said.

"Selling national secrets, working with the enemy, active sabotage, creation of military forces with direct harm of our nation in mind, and attempted assassination of high-tier government personnel."

"That's it? I thought it would be longer."

The royal unicorn stood watching the exchange, not sure what to make of it. The other ponies in the room were loudly chattering among each other, as more guards poured into the room.

"I'm bringing you in one way or another, Maynard. Don't make this hard."

"Hard? Hard?" He laughed again, a manic kind of laugh like you hear from the insane villain in movies. "The world is going to shit. Everyone's launching nukes at each other. I'll be damned if someone as great as myself is going to burn and suffer along with the rest of you for your mistakes."

"So that justifies killing others? Killing innocents?"

"Merely minor inconveniences in my path to freedom from the constrictions of the modern world and the war that others have started."

"You really are a crazed son of a bitch."

"Yes, says the man who murders other men in cold blood," Maynard laughed. "You soldiers and politicians were always so uncouth. Always with the numbers game, about who could get more out of the other without losing too many. Millions are dead on our world by the hands of the men we elected to rule, and you have the nerve to accuse me of murder."

Talbot frowned beneath his balaclava. He was trying to shift the topic. His holographic sight on his MR8 didn't falter, pointing straight at Maynard's head. "Yes, of course, because that somehow makes it right for you to do it."

"Permission to shoot, sir," Raymond's whispered voice said on Talbot's crosscom.

"Denied," Talbot whispered back. "We need him alive if we can."

Maynard looked terrible. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot, darting across the room between each of the Ghosts and the various circling guards in between now. He had to slip up sooner or later, but he wasn't going to agree to anything the Ghosts might put forward. He was too paranoid for that, but that paranoia was quickly becoming a double-edged sword in this conversation.

"Halt and drop your weapons immediately!" There were a lot more guards now, and they now surrounded the Ghosts, Maynard, and the hostage Harvey.

Pastor slightly leaned his head towards them. "We are peacekeeping and law enforcement soldiers from another world. You can stay on guard, but please let us solve this ourselves," he said slowly. "This man is considered mentally unstable in our world. Do not trust him."

Maynard had completely stopped talking now, and was alternating between pointing his gun at the Ghosts and at Harvey. His face was plastered with a look of desperation.

"We can make this work, Maynard. Just come with us," Talbot said. Trying diplomacy just once...

"No, no! You don't know what they know. What they'd do me. You're working for them! I can't trust you!" ...and it didn't work.

"Don't be foolish, Maynard." Talbot lowered his gun slightly and held up his hand. "We can make this work. Don't be foolish."

"How I can I trust you? I can't trust anyone. No one. Not the Americans. Not the Europeans. Not the Russians. Nowhere. You can't help me! Only I can help me! Only I can make it out of that hell alive! And I did make it out alive! You aren't going to take me back, you damn murderers!"

"Don't make this hard on yourself, Maynard, just turn yourself in."

"No! You won't take me! You'll never take me back! Especially not you! Murderers! All of you! You'll die first!" Maynard screamed, pointing his gun at Talbot's head, and pulled the trigger.

A single gunshot rang throughout the throne room.




Maynard's gun dropped from his slack hands, hitting the floor with a metallic thud. His body fell backwards, and his arm loosened. Harvey broke out of his grip and ran towards the Ghosts. Maynard's body hit the ground with a flat thud, blood leaking out of his head.

Talbot looked around, and saw Raymond with smoke still coming out of his MR8.

"Scope..."

"He tried to kill you, so I killed him," he said as a matter-of-fact.

Silence. Then noise, as the guards closed in on the five and surrounded them. The Ghosts held up their weapons in the air as a sign of compliance.

"Whoa, now," Mendoza said, backing away slightly from the guards that were inches away from him.

The royal unicorn/pegasus stood behind her guards, watching them. "And just exactly what manner of events have just unfolded, strange intruders?"

"The execution of a traitor," Raymond spat.

"Scope, let the boss do the talking, okay?" Mendoza hissed.

"Please, let us explain," Talbot said, motioning for the Ghosts to holster their weapons. "We are... uh, beings from another world. One of our own had committed treason in our nation and attempted to escape retribution by trying to travel to another world... somehow... and ended up here... where we were forced to use lethal force to stop him."

The white unicorn/pegasus held her gaze... then closed her eyes. "Very well, I suppose I shall accept that explanation. As for you and your companions, however..."

Mendoza gave out a sigh of relief.

"...throw them in the dungeon."

"What?!" Mendoza snapped his head to her. "Whoa, wait, now, just give us more time and we can--argh, hey, let go! We can explain!" The guard had slapped cuffs on them and began dragging off Pastor, who did nothing, and Raymond, who flailed like a fish out of water, cursing as they tried to pull him out of the room.

Talbot looked at her as the guards slapped cuffs on him.

"You may explain later, intruder, but I will not have you disturbing my court while it is in session," she answered.

"Very well. I'll explain later," he plainly said. "But I have a question."

"Yes?"

"What are you?"

"I am an alicorn, and I am the Princess of this land. You may call me Princess Celestia."

"I... see. Then I shall be speaking with you later." She nodded in response, and then returned to her throne.

The guards didn't drag Talbot off, but merely escorted him to the dungeon at the Princess's orders. Talbot felt pretty good about himself not getting his squad killed. Yet, in any case.




"Damn. This is exactly what I didn't want," Mendoza muttered, pacing around his . They were now in prison cells in the dungeon, each one of them separated from the other.

"And what would that be?" Pastor asked, sitting against a wall, hands cuffed.

"Ending up in jail! I promised my mom that I wouldn't end up in jail, ever! Shit, man, this sucks so bad..."

Pastor and Raymond had to stifle a laugh, and even Talbot had to admit he found it kind of funny.

"Uh... excuse me?" Harvey asked from the corner of his cell.

"Yes, Doctor?" Talbot moved to the gate of his cell to speak with Harvey, who was just opposite him.

"Just... who are you?"

"United States Army, special forces. Ghost Recon."

"Oh... oh!" Harvey said, obviously having heard of them before. "Well... I apologize that we met under these circumstances. I am Doctor Alan Harvey. Do you men, uh, perhaps have a way back home?"

"Nope. It was a one-way trip, Doctor. Sorry."

"I had thought as much. At this rate, it wouldn't surprise me if we don't find a way back home, not unless we could build our own Rift machine on an opposite side. But this world clearly doesn't have the technological proficiency to produce such things."

"And on top of that subject, what's up with this place?" Mendoza asked.

Harvey shook his head. "I do not know myself. Such an infinite possibilities of worlds hold an infinite possibilities of creatures, sentient or otherwise. I suppose that we can consider ourselves lucky that we happened to find a world that just so happened to speak our language and had the same type of air that we breathe, though I'm not sure if it contains minute differences that could produce complications in the long run."

"We'll just have to deal with it," Talbot said. "How is it that we can understand these creatures?"

Harvey gave a smile. "Well, now that I cannot explain. Perhaps there's a type of pathogen in the air that can translate, or some technology or magic stone around that translates for us. Or maybe it just so turns out that they actually speak our language. Funny things about the universe, you know. These things can always happen, even if by a slim margin."

They heard a large heavy door open as a pegasus guard entered the cell block. "Her Majesty will see you now."

"Oh, finally!" Mendoza shouted.

"Not you." The guard looked at Talbot. "You will be the one to speak to her."

Talbot got to his feet as the guard unlocked his door and took his handcuffs off. "Lead the way." The guard nodded and pointed at the door. Talbot exited as the guard followed him out and closed the door behind them.

"Save us, boss! You're our only hope!" shouted Mendoza as the door slammed shut.
> Diplomacy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	There was an air about this strange castle that just made a person just stop and admire it. Talbot definitely did a lot of it on the way to wherever he was being led to. The pegasus guard occasionally shot him a look, examining the exoskeleton-wearing human with its strange contraptions, but mostly kept to himself. Conversation was ignored, for the most part.

Talbot, despite his patience, began to get annoyed as it seemed that the guard was leading him down an endless series of hallways, with a few stairs interspersed in between. The stained glass windows and the red carpet were pretty to look at, but eventually got really old if they were the only things to look at. It certainly didn't seem to help that all the guards looked alike, but then again, all the Ghosts probably looked alike to them, too. There was also the odd maid running around, although the idea of a staff tasked to deal with the maintenance of such large grounds appeared grueling to Talbot.

They walked down what appeared to be another nondescript hallway before turning left towards a heavily-decorated pair of double doors.

"The Princess awaits you inside," the guard gruffly said.

"Many thanks," Talbot responded. As much as he didn't like the guards, he at least appreciated that they could adhere to their standards when performing their duty.

He entered what seemed to be a very well-stocked study. There were tables everywhere, covered with various texts and papers, although written in a language that Talbot didn't understand. Shelves lined the walls, dusty and aged, and stocked with even more books of all kind. It was a large open room with a single open balcony door at the end. Before it sat the Princess on a number of large cushions, reading off of a scroll with a red seal attached to it.

Talbot cleared his throat to get her attention. "Your Majesty, I believe you wanted to speak with me..."

"I do. Please, sit." Talbot obliged, but found his gear making it slightly awkward for him to sit. He eventually found a comfortable position in which he could recline himself without looking like a fool. He wondered why the Princess even allowed the Ghosts to retain their weaponry. "Before we begin, I would like to re-introduce myself. I am Princess Celestia, Royal Princess of the kingdom of Equestria."

Equestria. Quite the fitting name. "I am Captain James Talbot, of the United States Army." He blinked a few times, barely noticeable to Celestia behind the HUD on his tactical visor.

"United States?" she inquired.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. It's fifty smaller states that answer to a higher government authority that represents our sovereignty. In the global arena, we are recognized as the United States of America, America being the name we derived after one of the cartographers who had initially founded the landmass that is now my home nation. I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in history, so that's all I have to go on."

"I see. And what business brings you here, Captain?"

"I apologize about the incident earlier today, it was something that happened on rather short notice..." he began, pausing for a moment to see if the Princess had any questions. She had none. "...there's been a rather... concerning series of events that happened in our world that led to the kidnapping of several of our top scientists over the course of a decade. When we received word about the culprit's location, it was imperative that our soldiers deployed immediately to stop him, as you can obviously guess that having a number of brilliant minds at your command can only lead to bad things."

"And I assume that is how both he and your group appeared before us?"

"Essentially, yes. We don't know how he did it, but the insane bastard managed to build a portal. When we appeared to apprehend him, he escaped through it. We had standing orders to bring him back, dead or alive, to answer for his crimes against the state, namely levying an army against his home country, and attempted assassination of several important figures."

"And so in accordance to your duty, you could not simply leave him be."

"Exactly, Your Majesty. So with those orders, it was either go in after him, or go back outside and face the small army that he had defending his small compound, which we had infiltrated into. The choice was obvious. We had assurance from others on the research team that it was an all-or-nothing decision as the portal was only open for a short time, and we couldn't risk having him run loose in some other place or location. I made the call as team leader and decided to go after him."

"And that led to the events that occurred in the throne room..."

"Indeed. Then the events unfolded as you saw them and we were unfortunately required to... kill him."

Celestia blinked for a moment, contemplating the story. "I see. We have already disposed of his body. He wore only clothing, and did not have anything of merit on him. I hope you understand. And what news do you have of returning home?"

"Oh, it's no problem, Princess. On the second point, I..." Talbot stopped. There really was no way back. Even with Harvey's mind at his disposal, the materials needed to create such a cumbersome experimental device were simply unable to produced or even found. "We can't go home, Your Majesty... it was a one-way trip, after all, and your people don't have technological level required to produce the materials we need, and under my decision, I choose not to introduce those technologies in fear of upsetting the balance you have here. In all due honesty, even if we could build another portal, there's no guarantee that it'll even send us back to the right place."

"I understand. Then I shall grant you a temporary license to stay and give you quarters within the castle. You will, however, be under supervision." Her flowing multi-colored mane was a mystifying anomaly to Talbot, who quickly looked away from it as Celestia's statement ended.

"Thank you, Princess," he said. "On behalf of my squad and the good doctor, we appreciate it."

"It is of the Equestrian way to be kind and tolerant, Captain. Please see to it that you do not act unfavorably here."

"You have my word, Princess."

"Then that will be all. Though I do believe I am interested in learning more of your kind and your culture, so I may call on you later," she said, before returning to reading scrolls again.

Talbot simply nodded before proceeding out of the room. Another guard stood waiting for him as he knew he was going to be redirected back to the jail cells to pick up his squad.




The cell block door opened again with a heavy clank. Talbot quickly walked through, accompanied by another guard.

"Boss!" Mendoza said, jumping to his feet. "Please tell me we're not on the chopping block! I'm too young to die like this! I don't want to have to use my guns, either, but, man... please just tell me that we're not going to die."

"Shut your whining, Fuse," Raymond said. "We all know the boss. Short of running in the room guns blazing, he'll totally have our asses covered. Right, boss?"

"Keep running those mouths and I'll have you both wiping latrines with your tongues," Talbot said. "Yes. By a stroke of luck, we have been granted the right to stay within Equestrian borders and are being given quarters to reside in. We are, however, under surveillance, which is understandable. If aliens show up in the President's oval office shooting each other, we'd probably mow them down without a second thought. We're just lucky that we're being given this chance."

"Would you be so kind as to help this old man up?" Harvey asked. The guard quickly unlocked their cells, and Talbot aided the aged man to his feet. "Thank you. I have a favor to ask of you, Captain."

"Yes, Doctor? Your safety is our number one priority right now."

"I must ask that you please do not discharge your weapons here. This land, new and mysterious it may be, does not need to witness the horrors that our weapons are capable of inducing. And believe me when I say that I've been around long enough to see what they can do," Harvey nodded, laughing bitterly.

Talbot looked to the rest of his squad questioningly, but couldn't gauge their reactions with their balaclavas and tactical visors over their faces. "I guess I'll have to oblige that request, Doctor Harvey. But only under one condition: if any one of us comes under direct harm, we will be given full freedom to use our weapons in self-defense. Are those acceptable terms?"

"I cannot argue with those terms, Captain. But you do realize that we are in a position where we cannot resupply your weapons."

Talbot hadn't realized that until Harvey pointed it out. "...I understand, sir. We'll use them only in emergencies." He looked to his squad. "Any objections?" The rest of Anvil Squad shook their heads. "Good."

"Ready?" said the pegasus guard. "I have orders to escort you all directly to your chambers."

"We're ready," Talbot said, having Harvey lean on him. "Lead the way."




The group of humans followed the guard, walking through the castle's maze of hallways and stairs. Occasionally, they saw yet another maid pony running around, tending to groundskeeping duties, but for the most part, it was always guards. They weren't even sure what other ponies had looked like beyond the castle grounds, despite the buildings in the city proper that they'd seen earlier.

"You know, sir, this place looks really nice. It's all fancy and posh and all that stuff," Mendoza said. "It'd be really nice as a vacation spot, you know? And with that totally killer view just outside that balcony, man, what a looker."

"Sure beats the hell out of Fortaleza..." Raymond muttered, his sniper rifle still sitting on his back unused.

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be a wonderful time here," Harvey said, looking over his shoulder as Talbot continued to help him along. "So bright and colorful, and a new world! This will be amazing. Of course, I don't think I'd want to let anyone know about this, God knows we humans are already capable of ruining everything we touch."

Talbot was taken aback by that statement. "Regrets, Doctor?"

Harvey laughed a bitter laugh. "So many like you wouldn't believe."

"We should talk about that later then," Pastor said, looking up and around the tall arches of the hallway as they continued along. "I'm no shrink, but it aways does good for the system to talk about it, Doc."

Another laugh from Harvey. "I will take you up on that offer later, Lieutenant. Preferably with a glass of something strong."

"Count on it."

"We're here," the guard flatly said. They stood before another set of double doors, this one less furnished than the one that Talbot had seen before he met with Celestia. "You don't seem to have any belongings, so with that, I shall see you off. Good day." The guard saluted curtly and then walked past them, returning to whatever his duties had been.

"Tired, Doctor?" Talbot asked.

"A long sleep would do me well right now," Harvey said.




The rooms had been built for guests, obviously. The size of the beds had been baffling at first, being able to fit a human, until they'd asked a passing guard about the size. Turns out that they were a posh luxury for the richer ponies who stayed in this city, which they called Canterlot. Regardless, Mendoza was the one who gave the loudest thanks as he sat on his bed and quickly dropped on the soft cushiony goodness.

The room, however, was smaller than most. There were five beds, all within the same room, and a single balcony door revealing a breathtaking view over the valley they'd seen earlier, but in a different direction. A number of paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, detailing events of some kind in days long past. Various shelves and dressers dotted the walls with luxurious taste and well-made craftsmanship.

Talbot slowly helped Harvey on to his bed, before gradually reclining him and letting him lay on the pillows.

"I'm not usually this weak," Harvey said. "But you know, ten years of that sort of thing really does a number on your body."

"Sleep well, Doc. I guess they'll come alert us later today or tonight when they have something for us to eat, I assume," Talbot said.

"Mmm... hmm..." Harvey quickly fell into a deep snore as he let fatigue take over his body. Talbot stood up and walked over to the remaining untaken bed, pulling off his tactical helmet and balaclava before setting them on the nightstand next to his bed. His Ghost armor was, for the most part, unscathed. He hoped to keep it that way.

The rest of the Ghosts began to disarm themselves. Raymond gently left his sniper rifle sitting up against the wall in the corner of the room closest to his bed. Mendoza was busy trying to fumble around with the safety locks on his shoulder-mounted rocket pods, cursing in Spanish as he did so. Pastor was already taking off his armor, revealing his one-tone tan undershirt, devoid of markings, as was protocol for the Ghosts to avoid identification.

Talbot stripped off his armor, leaving only his pistol holster on him, carefully assembling the armor and exoskeleton parts into an orderly fashion in the dresser opposite the side of the nightstand, and put his MR8 on safety before sliding the drawers closed. As far as things went now, they were now guests of the Equestrian court under their graces, and they needed to be as diplomatic as possible. Walking around while armed certainly wouldn't win any favors.

As expected, as the four soldiers began to get used to the rather posh and comfy beds, there was a knock on the door.

"Dinner has arrived," said a voice on the other side.

"Oh, I wonder what they have for us to. I mean, they breathe the same air, speak the same words, what's next? We eat the same food? Well, I guess if they're horses--" Mendoza began.

"--ponies--" Pastor corrected.

"--right, ponies, they'll probably have vegetarian fare. Unless this is all some sort of trap, you know? I mean, what if this is all some really elaborate plan to fatten us up so they can have some sort of crazy feast later! With us! As the main course!  You've seen the movies, man! Oh, Jesus, that is so not cool, I'm too handsome to be eaten! I can't believe they'd--"

"As far as things go, Fuse, the only crazy thing about this world is you," Raymond said.

"Pipe down, ladies," Talbot said as he opened the door. Before him stood a finely dressed chef pony with a poofy white hat, with a large cart behind him. "Please, come in."

The chef pony, who wore what seemed to be a really fancy mustache, wheeled in the cart. "I apologize, my good sir, but would one of you here happen to be the Captain?"

"That would be I," Talbot said.

"Excellent. The Princess wishes a personal audience with you for dinner," the pony said in a fancy voice. "The rest of you, however, must remain. She says you would understand."

"I do." Pastor raised an eyebrow at Talbot. "It's nothing big, just for security reasons. No need to have four soldiers running around when all you need is one."

"Alrighty then, sir," Mendoza said. "Just don't go and get yourself killed, okay?"

Talbot gave a dry smile. "Fuse, you know I'm not that stupid."

"I know, I know," Mendoza said, raising his hands. "Just might wanna be careful in case things get dicey, y'know?"

Raymond walked over and lifted the cover of the silver platters on the cart. Underneath lay a number of vegetarian fare like Mendoza had expected, including some eggs and potatoes in addition to the regular leafy greens.

"Well, can't say it's that bad..." he said. "At least it's something we can eat." He looked to the chef pony. "Thank you." The pony beamed in pride, before bowing and leaving the room. Harvey was still snoring on his bed.

Talbot gave a few more hushed words of thanks to the pony before exiting along with him. With any luck, he would be dining personally with the Princess. He, like many other soldiers, hated doing the song and dance required when they were required to show up at formal events, especially with officers present. As usual, there was a guard outside waiting to take him to whichever room in the castle he needed to be.




And it so turned out that he was lucky. The Princess had arranged for a less formal dinner. There was a number of plates already waiting for him when he was escorted into the room by the waiting guard. It was in a very large banquet hall, with the large table seemingly barren save for the end where he was dining with the Princess.

"Greetings, Captain Talbot," Celestia greeted. "Thank you for joining me tonight. However, you do certainly look different."

Talbot walked up and took his place in a chair. Slightly smaller than he was accustomed to, but nothing too distracting. Like elsewhere in the castle, large stained glass windows and chandeliers decorated the banquet hall. The windows in particular here dealt with the events of the sun and moon of some kind. He wondered if it had something to do with the marking that Celestia had on her... thigh? He figured it best to not ask.

"Well, Princess, I don't see any reason we need our weapons around here..." he said. "My team and I are soldiers, here to keep the peace and protect our own, which, at the current point in time, only applies to the doctor and ourselves. For the most part, it seems that we don't have anything to fight against, so I saw fit that our armaments weren't needed. I hope our relations can remain amiable during our stay."

"As do we." She began poking into her food with a floating... fork. Talbot's eyes widened as he noticed her pick up a fork using her magic and begin eating. "Oh. I believe you must not be familiar with the ways of our world, Captain. As you may have already expected, unicorns are capable of using magic."

He opened his mouth to say something, but found no words. Magic. What was that quote again? 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'? Yeah, that was certainly it. He'd seen 'sufficiently advanced technology' before, and that came nothing close to what he was seeing before his eyes. "W-well, that's certainly news to me..." he managed.

"Did you just think that these horns were here for show?" she laughed. Talbot again tried to respond but found himself lacking in words. This would be an interesting dinner conversation indeed.




"Aw, man. This sucks on ice. Nothing but greens. I would just kill for some enchiladas right now," Mendoza groaned. He kept poking his fork at the plain leafy greens. It was surprising to the Ghosts that they even had forks. How did they even use them?

"It isn't that bad, Fuse," Pastor said. "Think about it like this. As crazy as it is to be under the graces of talking colorful ponies, at least we didn't end up on a world where there are hulking monsters four stories tall and can eat us all in one bite."

"Yeah, yeah, don't take what you have for granted and all that. Geez, this stuff can use some dressing." Raymond wordlessly handed Mendoza a wood flask. The whining demolitions expert took it, opening the topper before giving it a whiff. "Huh. Italian. Would you look at that?" He poured a copious amount of the dressing on top of his salad. "Yeah, now that's much better."

"So what do you reckon'll happen next?" Pastor said. "I know rank's never been an issue in the Ghosts unless we have to pull the old command hierarchy, but with everything that's happened, we might be stuck here for the rest of our lives, so I want your honest opinions."

"That's easy," Mendoza mumbled, the leaves of his salad sticking out of his mouth. He quickly vacuumed them into his mouth, holding up a finger to indicate waiting before swallowing. "I can make a living out of selling honest-to-God enchiladas! Then I'll make millions of... uh, whatever they use for money around here, retire like a king, and then live the rest of my life out in style."

"I wonder if they allow hunting here," Raymond said.

"I don't think they do, Scope..." Pastor said. "I mean, it's only vegetarian fare that they eat around here. Don't think they'd ever need a reason for meat."

"Hmm. That's a bit troubling..." The sniper continued eating his meal in silence, aside from the snoring coming from Harvey's bed. The old man could sleep through a storm at this rate.

"It ain't that bad, Scope," Mendoza said, trying to cheer him up. "I mean, you can make some pretty damn good stuff with stuff that isn't meat, too! Really awesome and delicious stuff. Like, uh... quiche?"

There was an awkward silence for a moment. "I can make do with quiche," Raymond said. Mendoza smiled and then let out a held sigh.

"Yeah, we can make do. Just have to--" There was a beeping noise as they noticed their crosscom systems pinging. "Oh, shit!" They immediately bolted for their helmets, pulling on the tactical visor and frantically scrolling over authentication checks and connection errors on their HUDs.

"We're in! We're in the global net crosscom! How the hell?" Pastor said.

"It's probably some crazy-ass time or spatial distortion or some shit, maybe we still have a connection to the satellites!" Mendoza said. "Just--just rip everything you can on weapon designs or stuff that can help us--bows, guns, traps, catapults, anything. God knows we're going to need them. How about we just rip every single non-meat related recipe for food from back home?"

"Wh-how the hell are we going to do that?" Raymond shouted. "We need access to the crosscom network for that, and only the boss has the codes!"

"Then there's no time! Keep scanning! Fuse, get the boss, now! This might be our only chance at getting back. I'm trying to contact SOCOM to let them know our operation was a success, but we're--gah, damnit! I keep getting timed out of the servers, the connection's too spotty."

Mendoza gave a quick nod before making a run for Talbot's helmet, and then slamming the doors open. The two guards waiting outside jumped in shock. "Where the hell is my Captain? I need you to take me to him, now! It's urgent!"

"I'll take you. This way!" The guard began to gallop down the halls, Mendoza sprinting behind him.




"...and that is how the war began in your world," Celestia stated. They had long finished their meals, but the conversation had continued, levitating towards the state of the world that Talbot had come from. For her sanity, he'd omitted the more gruesome details. And there were a lot of gruesome details he'd seen, read, and heard about.

"I can't really say much for it... it's always something or another with our people. I won't try to argue from a pedestal or try to claim the high ground. It's a very down and dirty war, instigated over an unstoppable cycle of death, fighting over control of the world's steadily disappearing resources. I guess all us soldiers had a hand to play in it, for better or worse," Talbot said.

"It sounds like a terrible place to live in," Celestia sadly said.

"Well, that's one thing that humans are known for, Princess. We're all stubborn, straight to the very end." He began to understand the sort of regrets that Harvey had, taking a sip from his cup, filled with a wine of some sort. The alcohol did wonders in deadening his emotions towards the issue.

"Do you think the war will ever be able to stop?" she asked. To Talbot, she might as well have been asking if the earth would ever stop rotating.

"At the current rate? No. Not until one side manages to beat all the other. But we're all so evenly matched, it'll be an utter nightmare. Thousands or possibly millions more deaths on all sides, ironically because we've all become so technologically advanced that only recourse is to meet on the field of battle and do things the hard way. Originally we had weapons that could end wars in the span of seconds, but then we built defenses that could stop those weapons, essentially putting us all back at square one..." He scoffed. "...for what good that did all of us in the end."

"Perhaps your kind had... already set in motions the events which would bring about your demise." It was more of a fact than a statement. A fact that rang all to true to Talbot's ears.

"I wouldn't put that out of our reach, Your Majesty. We've perfected the art of war as it is. We practically built up our superpowers to the point where we couldn't even look at each other without thinking that someone else is up to something. Lots of lies, backstabbing, and deceit, coupled with tentative peace, and a fatal accident, and then it all culminated into one huge war. You run out of enemies, and eventually you start making your own, provided you had enough guns." He poured himself another cup and took a long drink from it.

Talbot found it strange that he found it now of all times, talking to what seemed to be the most regal looking unicorn/pegasus he'd ever seen, to begin thinking about the consequences of the war. Thinking, however, meant nothing but an exercise in futility. Ever since Scott Mitchell was promoted to General and the Future Combat Systems program completed, the Ghosts had been assimilated into a unit of the most toughest and well-equipped soldiers the Army had to offer. But the real Ghosts, the ones needed to do the dirty things that the "other" Ghosts couldn't, were still there, and still every bit as fearsome as they had been in battles past. And then they were put into this war fighting against men much like themselves, willing soldiers of the state sent to kill each other in the name of their country and resources.

"Perhaps could you now understand why the man you were sent to capture had so desperately wanted to get away?" Maynard... that crazed madman. His reasoning, however convoluted his methods may have been, did make a degree of sense to Talbot.

"Yes. War is hell, and it's understandable that everyone just wants it to stop. But I remember the other half of that quote, that the only way out of hell, is through it. Perhaps at the end of the whole damn thing, when whichever nation is sitting on top of the damn pile of rubble that they call our world, we'll have some sort of peace... but only for a time. Human history doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. A lot."

"Then perhaps you--" Celestia began slowly, but was interrupted as the door to the banquet hall slammed open. At the space where the door had once been, stood a heaving Mendoza, armor void on his body, but helmet strapped to his head.

"Sir! I need your global crosscom codes! We still have a connection!" he shouted.

"What? Bring it here!" Mendoza quickly pulled off his helmet and tossed it to Talbot, who put it on himself. Quickly entering the passcode and necessary authentication, he found himself staring at the main database network for the United States Joint Strike Force. "What do you need?" he asked Mendoza, as Celestia simply witnessed the events unfolding in silence.

"Shell needs authorization! We're trying to pull as much data off the systems as we can, anything we can use to help us get back or survive here!" Mendoza shouted.

"And... done." He keyed the local crosscom for Pastor's helmet. "Whatever the hell you need to do, get it done fast! I'm dropping full authorization to all your crosscoms now, so get to it!" He pulled the helmet off and handed it to Mendoza, who gave him his own.

"I almost got it, sir, SOCOM's just going to need mission confirmation. I got good signal, but I can't get into contact. The whole network's being overloaded, and--holy shit, it just went dark! Boss, the whole damn network just went dark! What the fuck?!" Pastor said. Several frantic minutes passed as the four Ghosts continually tried to reconnect to the satellites. "Fuck! Trying to re-establish link... and there! We're still in! I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I'm relaying our mission success and our current status to SOCOM. We're MIA at the moment, sir, that's all I can tell."

"I'm trying to download as many weapon schematics as possible, sir," Raymond said. "I'm also downloading as many basic schematics for medieval weapons, as well. God knows we're going to need them if we can't have bullets. I'd try to see if I can grab any files related to the portal project, but that's classified NSA information, and we don't have clearance to that. And I doubt that Harvey would still have access to DARPA's network after he was kidnapped."

"I'm, uh, downloading recipes, sir," Mendoza said sheepishly. "Vegetarian recipes. And every single episode of Whose Line Is It, Anyway? because we're going to be pretty damn bored here. I'm surprised we even have an uplink to those flying dishes."

Talbot ignored him, trying to quickly dig through SOCOM and Ghost channels to find out what had happened since their disappearance. He downloaded as many debriefings and dossiers as he could, filling his crosscom databanks to near maximum, before the connection finally disappeared, this time for good.

"Shit, that was close. I got the message across, sir, but it looks like SOCOM's swamped with something else. I've never seen that much activity on the network before, even during wartime operations in Europe and everywhere else," Pastor said.

"I got the schematics, don't you worry," Raymond said. "With these, at least we'll still have some human ingenuity on our side."

"I, uh, got those recipes. And about half the episodes for WLIIA. Hey, can crosscoms do video playback?" Mendoza asked, before Talbot gave him a dry look. "What? I mean, this is going to be one hell of a ride, sir. Might as well enjoy it, right? And these crosscoms are built to last in the field, and can recharge on their own with some new crazy-ass DARPA energy generator or some shit like that." Mendoza just shrugged and gave a sigh before he left the banquet hall. "Don't stay out too long, boss, otherwise you'll miss your bedtime," he laughed, eyes obscured by the blue light from the crosscom.

Giving a grunt of disapproval, Celestia's presence was ignored entirely as Talbot began to cycle through the postbriefings and dossiers in the folder. On top, he noticed one specifically titled "OPERATION STORMHERALD", and opened it up. There were a number of battalion deployments, as a silent video of General Mitchell outlining an attack plan for retaliating against another attack against DC. This time, it involved a two-pronged attack from the US into European territory, relying on a blitzkrieg strategy to take and hold the missile shield uplink nodes in various cities like they'd done in Copenhagen.

The month and day dated showed that it had only occurred only mere days after they had disappeared. But that was impossible, they'd only been gone for a few hours! Unless the time distortion was greater than they had thought, then the change of events meant that the war would probably be over by the time they got back... a strange thought to entertain for Talbot. He shrugged it off and went back to his perusal.

The amount of battalions actually being devoted to this operation was staggering, even during the course of the EndWar. Easily at least six whole battalions were being sent to fight in Europe, while another four were to remain behind and guard the homeland. Another meat-grinder operation, Talbot thought. Within another week, the territory would be back in Federation hands, and then the US would be dealing with yet another west coast invasion from the Russians.

And speaking of Russians, the attack plan fully expected them to attack either the US or the Federation while the operation was commencing, though the initial analysis was that the Federation was far more likely to be attacked, being weakened if they caught themselves in a two-pincer attack. To alleviate that, Mitchell had set aside the remaining two battalions to deploy on the flanks of the invasion force to engage Russian forces in Switzerland. That battle would be more or less a standoff unless either side decided to flip the tables with extra support.

Why Mitchell even worked for this plan was beyond Talbot. He knew the General in person, as did many of the Ghosts, and that Mitchell adamantly preferred plans that resulted in absolute victory, but perhaps the lack of actual leeway in progress on the battlefield meant that it was essentially a game of "hit them harder than they hit us", and, boy, were there a lot of rematches for that. Not even neutral nations like the New Commonwealth could escape the influence of the war, and then there still remained the damn problem of the Forgotten Army from the third-world countries.

First, it was the attack in Croatia. Then, the attack on the Freedom-4 space shuttle and a propaganda-laden report from Russia that said that they'd "held off a surprise attack" at one of their new prototype nuclear reactors. And then the explosion of the Freedom-4 on its second launch day caused by what was "supposedly" a Federation missile shield strike. And then the Russians came into play on the US's side of the war, then wanted to claim territory in Europe... that sure sounded fishy for the Russians. Then again, everyone was pointing fingers at everybody else.

Yet another day in the EndWar. More deaths, more bullets, and more finger-pointing. Being in a place where none of that was happening, nor even considered, might as well be called a vacation.

"Well, Princess..." he said calmly, not even bothering to make eye contact with her. The silence that floated in the room hung for a few moments, capable of breaking even the most stoic guard. "It would appear that our world seems to be functioning completely normally on its own without us. And without a way back, it looks like we're here to stay."
> The Calm before the Storm
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Talbot had excused himself from the dinner following his statement. Celestia had affirmed him that they would be allowed to stay for as long as needed. Talbot had felt a pang of distrust at that. If only she knew what kind of work the Ghosts did, then perhaps she wouldn't be so willing to accommodate them... but needs were needs, and they rather needed to have somewhere safe they could be, and what better place than a castle?

He followed the guard as he began to think of how he could break it to his team that not only that they might end up staying in this land, but that there also appeared to be some sort of time dilation between their world and this one. The fact that everyone might just blow themselves into smithereens by the time they got back certainly was a grim thought to entertain. Nonetheless, it was a serious issue, and perhaps getting Harvey's opinion on the subject could also help.

The trek back to the quarters was lost in thought. Night had already fallen, and the light of the moon shone in through the stained glass windows, painting the halls in colorful light as it was joined by the orange glow from the torches nearby. Talbot paid attention to nothing but his own mental searchings, letting his legs follow the guard, helmet in hand. The whole experience so far was like a surreal dream, but one that was just... too real.

Before long, they'd arrived back the the simple double doors that led into their quarters. The guards noticed Talbot's hesitation as his hand hovered over the doorknob. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening the door and entering.




"Hey, boss!" Mendoza said, sitting at the circular table in the middle of the room. Talbot could see that he was watching a video on it. "So, it turns out that the crosscom really can do video playback. Awesome, huh?" He almost laughed out loud watching the clip, but caught himself when he realized that Harvey was still sleeping. "Oh, man, these guys are hilarious..."

"Glean anything useful, Shell? Scope?" Talbot asked.

"Nothing but dead public channels and lots of chatter on tactical priority. I didn't get much from that, I was too busy trying to report to SOCOM," Pastor said. "It's really strange, why would they do that? The only other reason they'd use emergency priority is if they had some sort of massive centralized attack. Probably just another battle in Washington DC again, you know how those are."

"I got the plans, sir," Raymond said. "Everything that we need are on my databanks. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be making guns or bullets any time soon. The precision tuning needed for making them is just something that we don't have. We can make do with things like crossbows or other simple projectile weapons."

"Gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please..." Talbot said. Pastor and Raymond looked up from their information browsing, as Mendoza gave another small laugh, before stopping his playback, clearing his throat and putting on his serious face. "I have... bad news. Really bad news."

"Well, it can't be that bad, can it?" said a waking Harvey. "We already know that our chances of getting back are slim to none, what else can top that?" He sat up on his bed and scratched the back of his head.

"You'd be surprised. Gentlemen..." Talbot slowly put his helmet on the table. "...we have a time dilation issue on our hands." The other four men turned their heads towards him. "At my current estimate, a few hours spent here means a few days back in our world.

"Whoa..." Mendoza gave a nervous laugh. "So, you're saying that, uh... the whole damn war could be said and done, totally over with before we even get back? You've got to be kidding, I mean, that's like... television stuff. I don't want to come back to hear that Pastor's daughter is a grand-grand-grand-grand-grandmother."

"Not joking." Talbot pushed a button that uploaded the dossier to all their crosscoms, detailing the happenings of Operation Stormherald.

"Oh, Lord..." Harvey said. "Are they really doing this...?" He pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And here I thought that Maynard was exaggerating when he spoke of these wars of attrition."

Mendoza scoffed. "Are you fucking serious? Just throwing the 15th Spec-Ops and five whole other battalions into the meat grinder? And trying to meet the Russians in Switzerland, the neutral territory? What the hell is Mitchell thinking?"

"That's easily at least several thousand more dead men, at the very least," Pastor said. "I certainly don't envy them, that's for sure... I think the first loser in this war will be whoever runs out of men first. We're all just too damn evenly matched. And I don't think the Russians are about to lose that one any time soon."

Only Raymond seemed unsurprised. "It was only a matter of time," he said flatly. "We ran out of creative things to use against each other so the only thing we can do in the end is just shoot at each other." He shook his head. "At least when nukes were invented, you could stop a war just from the sheer intimidation factor. Now when everyone has them, we had to build weapons that stopped them. And then from that, we return to square one like the 20th century wars."

Talbot stood in silence, watching the members of his team and the good doctor as the situation began to take hold of them. Mendoza was discussing the idiocy of Mitchell's plans with Pastor, having pulled off his helmet and left it on the table as the attack vectors for the battalions remained on the screen. Raymond had simply left his helmet on his bed, and was standing at the balcony, looking out into the night.

Harvey walked up to Talbot, attempting to say something, but stopped himself.

"Regrets, Doctor?" Talbot simply said, prompting that same bitter laugh from Harvey they'd heard earlier in that day.

"So many like you wouldn't believe, Captain. So many..."

"A little too late to worry about that now."

"I know. A strange situation we've all ended up in... was telling them about the time dilation necessary? Is it even true? Well, I suppose it can only be true since we're all here, and it's a few days later over there."

"I don't lie to my men, Harvey. I never do. Trust and cooperation builds the foundation of a strong team, not lies and backstabbing. Even if the right way means more pain."

"You're certainly taking this well."

"I was a career soldier. Both of my parents are already dead, died in a car crash when I was 24. My only allegiance was to the Army. And with that gone... well... I guess my allegiance is to my own countrymen. Which means that my duty right now is to keep an eye out for my team and you, Doctor Harvey."

Mendoza had scoffed himself into his bed by now, cursing the EndWar in every profanity that he knew. Pastor had continued talking back to him about the legitimacy of the plan, minus the body count. Raymond had deigned to simply examine his weapons.

"A shield that would save us from nuclear annihilation..." Harvey echoed. "That was what they called it. The SLAMS and Freedom Star, that is. God knows that if they didn't have limited ammunition for those, they would have fired them left and right. A global laser weapon that can strike at any time. And another that fires a projectile that can do what a nuke can, but isn't a nuke. No radiation, no fallout. Just one big explosion equivalent to that of a nuke."

"I suppose we have you to thank for that?" Talbot said, his gaze unwavering.

"Unfortunately... yes. I worked on both of the projects. Thankfully, tungsten rods are incredibly expensive to produce, and even more expensive to get into space. And we still manage to kill each other, just in less explosive ways..."

Talbot looked at him. "You worked on both of them? I'd like to hear you opinion on the subject."

Harvey sighed, running a hand through his unkempt white hair. "In the beginning, it was a mission of trust, you know? We worked together alongside European scientists, many of us absolutely ecstatic about finally being able to end the threat of thermonuclear war. But to think that would be as naive to think that one could end war itself. When relations began deteriorating, the United States just simply couldn't trust the Federation to have a new toy in space."

"And then the United States made the Freedom Star..."

"Yes. And with that, they put me on the project, too. I have to tell you, having men in black suits show up at your door is a harrowing experience. Then one thing led to another, that damned attack by Maynard happened, and I was kidnapped to work on his little pet project."

"The Rift Project." Talbot shook his head. "How the hell does a man end up inventing portal technology? And having it actually work? Even I couldn't begin to comprehend the whole insanity of that project..."

Harvey chuckled. "Neither could I, Captain. Neither could I."

"Are we really up against the wall now? Is this what it's essentially going to boil down to? Just throwing men at each other en masse?" Mendoza said, bringing his head up to look at Talbot. "Come on, boss, you've known the General longer than any of us have. He can't possibly just--"

"But he has to. This war's essentially turned into nothing but endless battles with downtimes in between. We can't risk just sitting back for a moment, because the other sides certainly won't. Especially not with the Russians running around with their whole army. Yeah, I know our doctrine, but even playing dirty doesn't work when the enemy just keeps throwing men at you," Pastor said.

"What do we do now, sir?" Raymond asked, ignoring the continuing debate between Pastor and Mendoza. "We're stuck now. No way home. Not even sure if we want to go back home anymore. What do we do?"

"Live," Talbot said. "Live our lives as best as we can. As far as things go now, gentlemen, we're strangers in a strange land. I want to avoid getting into any unneeded fights, especially with our tech. We'll just live our lives out here in peace. Maybe one day if we're all crazy enough, we can try heading home."

"It's very green here. I don't think I'd want to leave. It's a very nice place to look at. Practically a postcard picture from what I can see here." Raymond turned his head to look out over the balcony again. "Never really had a home, I guess. The barracks and the woods are as good a home to me as any other. I'm staying, Captain."

"Hell, I'm not even sure myself anymore, boss," Mendoza said. "I mean, seriously. If we've perfected space travel by the time we get back, I think the whole culture shock is really just going to throw us for a really huge loop. And besides, didn't that other scientist guy tell us that the portal practically requires the whole juice from an entire city's power grid in order to work? Where the hell would we find that here?"

"And not to mention all the sensitive materials that we need. At this point, thinking about building the portal is like trying to build the pyramids using only four men when you're surrounded by nothing but dirt," Pastor said.

"And I apologize, Captain," Harvey said. "But even I don't know what kind of materials were needed to make the portal. Maynard kept everything compartmentalized. I was only in charge of calibrating the jump systems for the portal."

Talbot just sighed. "So, like we already knew, we're stuck. No use dwelling on it now. It's getting late, gentlemen, and we've had a long day. Right now, I think we all could use some sleep."

"Amen to that..." Mendoza said, rolling his eyes.

With no further discussion, the humans decided to go to sleep. The effects of the war had already desensitized most of them to the thought of their homes being blown up, but Pastor was the only one with family still alive when the attack happened. He didn't get much sleep that night.




The Ghosts had stirred early from their sleep that morning. The events of the past night weren't something that they continued to dwell on: trying to understand the whole wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey business was just too intricate. Further attempts to reconnect to the global crosscom network had proven useless. They really were out of the loop for good this time.

Breakfast had arrived early. No doubt that the guards had heard the small commotion they'd set up that morning and arranged for sustenance to be prepared for them. It was a very hearty feast, with eggs, hash browns, and more leafy greens. Much to Mendoza's amusement, they even had quiche.

The spirits of the group of humans were lifted, once they'd cleared the whole never-going-back shock. The morning had brought them a most spectacular view as the sun rose over the valley, the rivers giving off a splendid reflection of light as the rays hit them at the most perfect angle. Mendoza had spent most of the morning in his bed watching WLIIA on his helmet, the sounds of the skits and his laughter loud enough to be heard through the entire room. Pastor was reading a Stephen King book that he never got around to beginning during his time with the Ghosts, trying to take his mind off of the previous night's events. Raymond had stuck to his routine of doing morning pushups and pullups, and was busy cleaning his M107 sniper rifle when breakfast arrived.

Talbot was busy sorting through the various notices, trying to catch up on recent battles and events prior to their disappearance, as the remaining three were eating their breakfast, with the occasional jibe shared between them. Harvey was nowhere to be seen, which was odd, until what appeared to be a really well-decorated wall in the room opened up and the old man walked out fully clothed, with a towel draped over his neck. Steam billowed out from the room behind him.

"What?" he said, responding to the gaze of the eating Ghosts. "I know, I know, you all thought 'oh, it's just a wall', right? Well, it's not a wall, it's the door to the damn bathroom. It's really five-stars in there. Sure, the toilet's a bit small, but that tub is definitely five-star worthy. There was even a bottle of wine in there. Now that's service. Oh, I see breakfast has arrived." He sat down and began to dig in, joining the early morning joviality.

There was a knock on the door. "The Princess wishes to speak with the Captain," came a voice from the other side.

"Er muh guf, wuh duf she warnt ner (Oh, my God, what does she want now) ?" Mendoza said with mouth stuffed with eggs and quiche.

"I got this." Talbot took off his helmet, leaving it on the table as he exchanged a confused look with Pastor. He opened the door to find yet another one of the royal guards waiting for him.

"The Princess wishes for you to attend a lecture given by her on Equestrian history and culture. She deems it fit that she should return the favor given the topic of discussion that you shared last night."

"Oh, this is exciting!" Harvey said. "May I attend? As a fellow researcher, of course."

"You may. Her Majesty has not placed any restrictions on the number that may attend."

"Breakfast and a lecture! It's like college all over again!" Mendoza said cheerily.




As with many events that took place in the castle, the lecture took place in a huge assembly hall that seemed much too large for the five humans and the regal alicorn. There were rows upon rows of seats, seemingly stretching for a good long distance before they actually managed to get close to the table and chalkboards that sat underneath this high arched ceiling.

"Greetings, Captain," Celestia greeted. "I see you have seen fit to bring your companions here. I am Princess Celestia, Royal Princess of the kingdom of Equestria. And you are?"

"Lieutenant Kevin Pastor, Your Majesty."

"Corporal Burt Raymond, Your Majesty."

"Doctor Alan Harvey, Your Majesty,"

"And I'm Corporal Manuel Mendoza! It's an honor to actually meet you personally, Princess!" Mendoza's good moods were practically off the charts today.

Celestia smiled. "It is also an honor to make your acquaintance, Corporal. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I do believe it would be best to fill you in on the matters of Equestrian society."

It turned out to the humans, amazingly enough, that pony society was actually a very peaceful one. They learned about how the alicorns raised the sun and moon using magic ("Like a tractor beam!" said Mendoza.), about crime was usually unheard of outside of a few unsavory elements ("And here I wanted to play Batman!" Mendoza joked.), and how pegasus controlled the weather ("If only we could do that, we could end drought," Harvey had said.). Celestia finally mentioned that she had a sister, Luna, who also controlled the raising of the moon.

Talbot wasn't sure if it was plainly obvious, but the weapons of war that they'd brought along with them had no place in this peaceful society. He dare say that thanks to all this "magic of friendship", Celestia had called it, there was absolutely no need for any military outside of a standing guard force, small enough as it was, for the nobility and royalty. He wondered if there actually was any other nation or sovereignty in this world besides Equestria.

"Is there... any way for us to apply for citizenship within your kingdom?" Harvey asked her.

The question was unexpected. "I... suppose there is, Doctor. You do not intend to return?" She covered her mouth as she began to recall the events of last night's dinner. "I--I'm sorry, I completely forgot."

Harvey looked at Talbot, who simply nodded. So Celestia knew. "It's okay, Your Majesty. We'd just like to see if we can just live out our lives here in peace. I have proficiency in research and the sciences. Perhaps I could help with some matters of research that you may need help with. As for my compatriots here..." He motioned with his hand. "Perhaps they could be integrated into your guard force? I assure you, I know who they are, and they are very well-trained. Having them on your guard force would be a great boon."

"I suppose it can be arranged. And what else would you ask for in return?"

"Aside from the asylum that you have already granted us, a place to stay and permanently call home. As much as we'd like to just go out there and see the world, I doubt that it would do well for your citizens to see aliens walking among them."

"I see." By this time, hours had passed and the sun was high in the sky, visible from the vaulted high stained glass windows. "Very well, I shall put in a word for the five of you. Please enjoy your stay here."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Talbot said, standing and bowing before her. The rest of them took the cue and did the same.

"Please, such formalities are not needed," she laughed.

"Alright, we've spent enough time here, and the lecture's over. Time to file out," Pastor said. The four humans walked out of the large assembly hall as Mendoza got into an argument with Raymond over proper pony etiquette.

Only Talbot remained, looking at Celestia.

"Do you have a question, Talbot?" she asked.

"I do. Are there any other nations out there besides Equestria?"

"There are. There are the dragons, who reside in the northeast, far from our lands, and bolstered against with our fortress city of Stalliongrad. And then there are the griffons to the west, who are a more militaristic society, not unlike humans. They are, however, very hostile to newcomers. If you wish to travel to meet them, I highly urge you to think against it."

"We wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty. Your generosity has been far too kind, and we would be loathe to even think about betraying your trust. You've been very kind to us all. I'd like to just say right now that if it was on the other end... aliens showing up in the office of the most important human in the world, that we would have most likely shot first and asked questions later. It was a very risky decision you made for us, Princess, and I want to let you know that we won't let you down."

With a military salute, he gave an about-face and left the room.




The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Mendoza had taken to playing solitaire with an old deck of cards he'd always had on him, Pastor was still reading his book, and Raymond and Harvey had taken to discussing possible new weapon designs; they agreed upon bows, and specifically, making a compound, composite, or recurve bow for Raymond.

"So we're using bows now?" Mendoza asked, flipping an Ace of Spades upright on his playing field. He frowned when he noticed that none of his cards could be stacked with each other.

"Easy to make, easy to use," Raymond said. "And I have a lot of experience with them. How soon do you think you'll have one ready, Doctor?"

"I'm a weapons engineer and physicist, Corporal. Something as easy as a bow should never be out of my reach. If I can ask for some resources like some wood to craft these things with, and something to tie it all together, I should have one ready as early as tomorrow evening."

"Excellent. Everyone gets one," Raymond said. "We can't risk using bullets, and arrows are easier to make than brass casings."

"Oh, the arrows shouldn't even be that hard to produce. With the right mindset and design schematics, I can most likely crank out arrows at a rate of ten to fifteen an hour. You Ghosts have your combat knives, right? They're made out of very durable steel, and I'll need to borrow one to fashion the arrowheads from the steel I'll most likely get from them. Their guards wear armor, so getting some material to work with shouldn't be too hard." He pulled out a pen and began sketching some basic bow designs on a piece of parchment paper.

"Bows? I think we're going to need a crash course with those, Scope," Pastor said, flipping through another page in his book. "You're a woodsman, right? How good are you with those things?"

"Let's put it like this: I can snipe a squirrel from across a field. While it's running."

"What the hell, Scope? First sniper rifles, and now this? Are you some sort of range junkie or something?" Mendoza asked.

"Former Olympian candidate. Decided to sign up for the military instead." That earned him looks from the rest of the group. "I'm serious! I was a candidate for the American archery team. Come on, you know I don't joke."

"So not only is he a regular Carlos Hathcock, now you're telling me that he's a Robin Hood, too?" Mendoza scoffed, putting down a Queen of Diamonds. "So what does that make us? Doc Harvey's over there some crazy smart weapons genius, I'm the explosives expert, the boss is, uh, the boss, and Shell's... what are you, Shell? Do you have anything special?"

"I babysit your asses while the boss is away," Pastor laughed. "I don't know. I guess I'm just an extra gun? Extra guns never hurt, right? Maybe I should have packed a machinegun or something so I can be our resident Rambo." The conversation continued further into Pastor's self-proclaimed role within the squad, Mendoza offering joke titles and funny quips while Raymond just rolled into a series of serious questions as if it was an aptitude test.

Talbot had moved over to the table, watching Harvey further improve his already detailed sketches of bows. He had an outline of materials, things he would need to put together a basic prototype, mostly things like wood or vines, but tough things that could stand up to the test of time.

"Looks sturdy, Doctor," Talbot said. "Are you so sure they'll have all these things in stock?"

"Hopefully. I know they have wood, and I know they have metal. With any due luck, I can fashion something together, perhaps even layer them on top of each other and create a more pliable material, almost like a composite, creating a tough and strong bow. As for the rope, that's something purely up to chance. I don't think your uniforms will react nicely if I fray them, even if they are kevlar-weaved."

"And you mentioned something about a compound bow earlier... am I correct in assuming that we're going to need wheels of some sort?"

"We do, if we want to make it." Harvey pointed at one of the wheels on his schematic. "There might be a problem, though, and it's usually because anything with wheels on it doesn't keep too well in the field. I'll just try to go for a standard composite bow. Your Corporal has stated that he's had a lot of archery training. Having a composite bow would keep things small and easy to use, perfect for the kinds of missions that you Ghosts do."

"It looks kind of small, don't you think? I know the Corporal likes his punch as much as he likes his range, and it doesn't look like the composite has a lot of punch... or range."

"Really now? Well, that'll require some certain reworking... but nothing that I can't recoup from. Corporal Raymond has been very helpful by providing me with some basic schematics of all these bows. Perhaps I can fashion something from what he has, just give me time."

"That sounds good, Doctor." Talbot patted him on the shoulder. "With any due luck, maybe the use of these bows will prove more fruitful in the long run."

"Don't get your hopes up just yet, this thing's still on the drawing board," Harvey laughed.




Before long, Harvey had ventured off to the forge with Raymond, with Celestia's express permission. They had all agreed upon a specially-designed recurve bow, with a small bowsight and arrow rest at Raymond's behest. The large design schematics had been folded neatly under Harvey's arm as the two men went off to the forge. Raymond was needed because he'd made a bow before and wanted to witness the results himself, while Harvey, in his old age, needed someone to work the forge with him.

Within several tedious hours, however, a plain letter and a thick packet arrived for the Ghosts, the letter explaining their induction into the Royal Guards of Equestria, and the packet containing citizenship papers. The letters had been mostly legible, thankfully, and within the hour, Talbot, Pastor, and Mendoza had already sent theirs off, as well as their acceptance letters for the Royal Guard.

"Royal Guard? That has a nice ring to it," Mendoza said.

"Yeah, that's because they're mostly for protection. Kind of like the Secret Service and the President," Pastor said. "But isn't that kind of crazy? I mean, if things ended up like in the States and we get invaded, what good is having only Secret Service to fight back with?"

"A little too peaceful, I guess," Talbot shrugged. "Don't start hating on them for it, they're just different than we are."

"And we start our patrols tonight? That's a little fishy, if you ask me... oh, look, they included a map. I think I'm speaking for all of us when I say we could really use a damn map." Mendoza unfolded the cloth map and turned it a few times, squinting at it. "So... uh, where are we again? I think we're in this corner... no, no, wait, I think we're in that corner, yeah. Wait, no, I recognize that hallway, so I'm pretty sure we're over here."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Fuse, just give it to me." Pastor snatched it out of his hands. "Yeah, see, we're right here. You can tell because the assembly hall is here, and that fancy-ass throne room is that huge room right there." He took one of the nearby quills and marked a room in the northeast section of the castle with an X. "See, there, now we won't get lost."

"So, first up on tonight's shift are... Shell and Fuse. Good luck to you both." He tossed two sheets of paper to Pastor and Mendoza. "There's your patrol routines. Hope you remember the time you stood guard at Fort Bragg, because you're going to need that intensive drill experience and unparalleled guard duty training."

"Ha-ha, real funny, sir," Mendoza said, examining the paper. "Oh, that's... in about five hours, if I'm reading this thing correctly. They have time here? They have clocks?" Pastor tapped Mendoza on the shoulder before pointing to a clock on the wall. "Oh... well... I knew that."




"Think this is the place?" Mendoza asked. He and Pastor, decked out in their Ghost armor, stood outside a huge set of ornate double doors, black and blue and decorated with the mark of a crescent moon. "This door's, uh... not really giving off a lot of good vibes..." He nervously moved his hand over to his pistol, MR8 slung over his back.

The rest of the day, again, had been spent doing pointless things, but this time, they actually had a role to respond to, so Mendoza and Pastor checked their equipment and weapons multiple times before leaving for their patrol. Raymond and Harvey had returned only minutes before the two set off with a working prototype recurve bow, plied from wood and reinforced using metal, with an extremely durable rope as the bowstring, used in the armor that the guards wore.

They certainly earned the strange look of lots of guards on their way through the castle. Even scared a few maid and scribes in the process. The general reaction towards them only drove home the assumption that the general populace would probably break into a panic if they ever saw the humans walking on their streets.

"We're on time, so..." Pastor knocked on the door, receiving no response. He knocked again.

They heard the door being unlocked, before it opened and revealed another guard, this one wearing black armor. "Who goes there?"

"Lieutenant Kevin Pastor. This here's Corporal Manuel Mendoza. We were given guard duty for this part of the castle on the Princess's orders."

"Ah, yes, the new arrivals. Princess Luna will want to see you immediately." The guard pulled the door wide open, revealing a large atrium adorned with stained glass windows detailing each moon cycle. "Please, enter."

"Well... they certainly don't lack in style, that's for sure..." Mendoza whispered. The stained glass windows even stretched up to the ceiling, painting the atrium in a moon-lit white glow. The ground was covered in a dark blue carpet, and statuettes wearing lunar guard armor stood against the walls in a circle. "That's a lot of moon-related stuff..." They walked to the center of the room and stared up at the ceiling, itself a representation of the night sky.

Another set of doors on the left side of the atrium opened up. "Greetings. My sister had told me that she would send two capable guards my way, but I admit that I had doubts as to whether she..." Princess Luna walked out but stopped as she noticed the two Ghosts staring back at her. "I... did not expect that she would send nonponies to aid me."

"Uh, hello, Princess Luna," Pastor said. "I'm Lieutenant Kevin Pastor, nicknamed Shell. This here's Corporal Manuel Mendoza, we call him Fuse."

"Just what manner of soldier are you?" Luna asked, walking around them. She was curious about their armor and armaments, especially the strange pack on Mendoza's back.

"We are Ghosts, Your Majesty."

"Ghosts? How did you earn such a title?"

Pastor chuckled. "Swift. Silent. Invisible. That's our motto." He activated his camouflage, earning a gasp from Luna and the guards around the room. "We're the Ghosts." He decloaked several meters away. "I imagine that you probably expected guards instead of soldiers. Are we to continue on our patrols, then?"

"Oh, yes, please do so. You shall be relieved before the morn."

"Well, then, we'll be on our way." Pastor turned to a Mendoza staring up at the ceiling, leaning his head left and right as he tried to make out the fine details in the glass. He slapped Mendoza on the side of the helmet. "Hey, airhead, get your ass moving, we have a job to do."

"Oh, right, right. Man, you see that up there? It's like--whoa, hey, stop dragging me!" Pastor pulled Mendoza away from his stargazing towards the door, earning a laugh from Luna. Their guard shift, accordingly to what the paper had told them, would span the timeslot of six grueling hours.
> Bump in the Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was really easy to sleep when you had a late night patrol. Thankfully, fatigue did wonders in filtering out noise and just getting your body to sleep, and special forces training did wonders in making you work on as little sleep as possible. Pastor and Mendoza had returned to the quarters a couple of hours before dawn was set to rise, quickly dropping their armors into the dressers and falling asleep quickly on their beds. The lack of the remaining citizenship papers which had been left on the desk indicated that Talbot and Raymond had already sent theirs off.

They'd gotten six hours of sleep, waking up at around ten in the morning, where Talbot and Raymond went off to do their patrols in the daytime.

"Yeah, I love being able to just have a lazy morning!" Mendoza said, stuffing his face with the great breakfast that they'd woken up to. "Oh, man, I could totally get used to this."

"Slow down, Fuse, and you won't end up choking with all that food you're shoving down your throat," Pastor laughed.

"I heard you two did the night patrol?" Harvey asked. "And you reported to the Princess of the Night, no less. I have to say, this nation's history is just so interesting. It's like a fairy tale and not a fairy tale simultaneously, because we're here witnessing the whole event! I could only imagine what it must have been back then, the texts say the Princesses are actually very old."

"They must be quite the rulers if they can maintain such peace for as long as they have. It's a really nice place here. I mean, I see that valley out the window every morning and I wish I had a damn camera to take a picture." Pastor took a sip of coffee out of his fancy white cup.

"Oh, I agree with you there, Lieutenant." Harvey took a sip of his hard cider. He'd taken a liking to it over all the other alcoholic drinks they'd offered, and found that he liked having it with every meal. "Well, Ghosts..." He poured a shot of cider for Pastor and Mendoza. "...to our good future."

"To our good future!" they cheered, clinking their cups together, simultaneously downing it all in one go.

"Woo, can't say that I was a fan of hard cider before, but damn if this stuff doesn't grow on you," Mendoza looked into the bottom of his cup. "A lot of their ingredients are pretty top-notch here."

"Well, this is the royal castle, after all. Say, Doctor, how are those bows coming along?" Pastor asked, leaning back in his seat.

"They're coming along fantastically well!" Harvey almost shouted. "I have to say, without those designs, we really would have been stumbling around in the dark. But with the Corporal's help, we actually managed to create a working prototype that went beyond expectations. The wood and metal they use here are extremely durable, surprisingly enough, and were easy to work with. I've already begun fletching arrows for the quivers I plan to make today."

"Have you seen Scope fire the bow?"

"Who? Oh, you mean Corporal Raymond. Yes, I have, actually. He certainly wasn't joking about the rabbit bit, he really is a master with that bow. Took to it like a fish to water."

"With enough training, I guess we can all be Robin Hoods," Mendoza laughed. "How hard is it to make the arrows, Doc? I mean, putting together every one of them must be a bit... annoying."

"Oh, no. They already have the shafts already made. They actually use arrow-related weaponry here, you know? Anyway, I simply just fasten on the arrowheads and the feathers, and then they're all good to go. I already have enough for several quivers just waiting for storage."

"Nice. What about more bows?" Pastor asked. The morning had been mostly quiet save for the birds chirping outside.

"I'll be working on them soon, but this time I'll be experimenting. Trying to use new design quirks, or adding in new materials, things to make the bow stronger or have fire farther."

"Yeah, then we can all be like pew-pew-pew, and then woosh, and then BAM!" Mendoza shouted. "I mean, arrows are nice, but as crazy as it sounds, I still haven't got a single chance to fire my rocket pods yet..."

"Pray that we won't have to, Fuse," Pastor reprimanded. "You should know better than to just want to fire weapons in peacetime conditions like that. This guard stuff's actually pretty easy on the body. I guess I'm just kind of glad after everything we went through, we might never have to kill anyone ever again."




Raindrops opened her eyes. It was dark, very dark, and cold, and damp. She couldn't tell where she was. She tried to recall what had happened to her prior to waking up. She was walking down the street with her friend, Ditzy Doo, on the road just outside Ponyville, trying to enjoy the view of the night sky. Then everything went dark, and there was screaming, and--

Oh, no. Ditzy!

She jumped to her feet, trying to run towards the light of a torch she found at the end of the hallway, only to run into... bars? Jail bars? She was trapped, stuck in a jail cell! And Ditzy was nowhere to be seen!

She felt her hoof step into something squishy. But that was impossible, these were caves. She leaned down to inspect the strange substance. It was liquid of some sort, red, and it was oozing from... a... piece of... meat...

It was flesh. Flesh of a dead pony. Her irises narrowed into pinpricks as she slowly turned her head to the right. She gave out a small mental sigh of relief to see that it wasn't Ditzy, but that was absolutely dwarfed by the realization that she stood staring at a dead pony, a pegasus, one who had been cut up and stabbed very badly. Her mouth wavered as she slowly backed into a corner, shaking, and trying not to scream.

"Look, the pony is awake. Look now, pony. See what we do to ponies that try to escape." The guttural voice gave a laugh. "You shall suffer and die here along with rest of ponies. Yes, diamond dogs will finally have revenge on stupid ponies!" Another laugh.

Raindrops shrunk into the corner. She was scared, scared of what had happened, where she was, and of the thing that was now laughing at her outside her cage, stuck far below ground, unable to fly.

"Somepony... anypony... help... oh... Ditzy..." she meekly whispered.

She feared for her friend, but she was too scared to do anything alone.




"Under much deliberation by my officers and myself, we have reached a conclusion: Captain, you will send one of your own to assist in this operation. This is an order given directly by me, Princess Celestia. I will give you until sundown to make your decision." Talbot and Raymond had been called into a meeting room during their patrols, asked to give their advice on a sensitive situation. They didn't figure that they would actually be involved in it.

"We all have specializations in the field, Your Majesty," Talbot said, standing before the large table full of military ponies and Celestia herself. "Is there any role you're looking for? And just what exactly are we need for, anyway? I don't think we'd be needed on a standard operation if that's the case..."

"A good eye and a sharp shot," responded a unicorn wearing purple battle armor. He'd introduced himself as Captain Shining Armor, and was in charge of this operation. "We have heard reports of a disturbance out near Ghastly Gorge, and sightings of strange beings roaming close to town during the night. Recently, we've heard that there have been abductions, and that's why we're going to investigate. I've heard from Princess Luna that you have lots of experience and some useful abilities."

"Easy choice, then," Talbot said. "Scope, you're up."

"Yes, sir." Raymond looked to Shining. "It'll be an honor to work with you, sir. I'd like to state that I am an accomplished sniper, with plenty of field experience under my belt. I won't fail you, sir." He saluted.

"You can trust the Corporal here, he's worth every bit of his weight in gold. There just remains one problem..." Talbot said. "Under a promise given to Doctor Harvey, we are not allowed to use the weapons that we had arrived with." He turned to Raymond. "Scope, is that bow of yours ready?"

"I test-fired it myself yesterday, sir. It's beyond perfect. I can nail a target at fifty meters on a dime."

"Good. Got arrows?"

"The doctor said he'd have three quivers ready for me by the end of the day."

"Excellent. There you have it, Your Majesty. I hope Corporal Raymond here can perform to your expectations. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we're eager to prove ourselves to the Equestrian Royal Guard."




"What, so only Scope gets to see action? What about us? The rockets are just hankering to be let loose!" Mendoza said. "Come on, just once? I really want to use these rocket pods!" The crickets chirped loudly as the moon rose higher into the sky. Pastor and Mendoza had been excused from their patrols this night by Princess Luna to help prepare their comrade for his imminent mission.

"Denied, Fuse. The Princess told me afterwards that the rest of us are on standby. The Princesses both have joint command over this operation, while I'm acting as mission handler for Scope," Talbot said. "Just a routine investigation, they say. Hopefully things won't end up going south. Only Scope is getting deployed because we're still trying to build up trust with them, and what better way to do that than to send one of our own to help them?"

"Swift, silent, invisible. Right, boss?" Pastor laughed, shining the unit insignia on his shoulder guard.

"Like a ghost," Raymond said. He gave a tug on his recurve bow's bowstring to make sure it was up to par. "Got those arrows ready, Doc?"

"Just in time! You should see the heavy cloth they use here, it's practically like kevlar weave! Though they did tell me that it was magic-reinforced. With due luck, these quivers will serve you admirably in the field."

"Thanks." He loaded the quivers on his back, but could only fit two of the three given to him. Shaking his head, he simply tied the remaining one to his left hip instead. As per their agreement with Harvey, Raymond only had his silenced sidearm at his disposal. "Guess I'm off now."




Twilight Sparkle walked out to her balcony this fine evening, admiring Princess Luna's night sky. She peered into her telescope and began her observation of the many constellations that shone brightly in the sky, jotting down notes and asking Spike for a refreshment once in a while. There was a discrepancy, however, as she noticed a chariot flying through the sky, one that belonged to Princess Luna... and it was headed straight for Ponyville!

She ran inside, bolting past a confused Spike and a questioning look from Owloysius, and opened her treehouse's front door just as the chariot touched down on the landing. She did not, however, see Princess Luna. Instead, she saw what seemed to be several of Celestia's royal guards and her brother, Shining Armor, disembarking the wagon.

"BBBFF!" Twilight shouted, hugging her brother. The armor certainly got in the way, though.

"Twily!" Shining responded, giving a laugh as the other five guards began fanning out, eyes sharp for any disturbances. "I wish I could say more, but right now, I need any maps that you have for Ghastly Gorge."

"What? Why?"

"Royal guard business, Twily. I'm afraid I can't say anything more than that."

"But I... okay. I understand." She quietly went inside and brought out several small scrolls. "Those are the best maps that we have right now. They haven't been updated for a while, but I doubt that a lot has changed in Ghastly Gorge. Please be careful in there, okay?"

"You know we will, Twily. Good night." The guards jumped on the chariot again and bolted off towards the Everfree Forest, in the direction of Ghastly Gorge. He opened up one of the scrolls, quickly examining it, as the human holding on to the railing of the chariot uncloaked next to him.

"A gorge, huh?" Raymond said. "Definitely going to be some excellent vantage spots." He wore three quivers: two on his back, and one slung directly over his left thigh. The arrows had been fletched on a speedy basis by Harvey, who had assistance from the rest of Anvil Squad. They planned out their sweep as the chariot began descending on the long winding canyon.




They had landed the chariot under the cover of the treeline before advancing the rest of the way on foot. Ghastly Gorge was extremely large, and winded through from the mountains over near west of Ponyville before directing itself into griffon territory. There were plenty of quarray eels just waiting to take a bite of any unsuspecting flier, so scouting directly into the canyons, especially this late at night, was decided against.

They had stalked along the edge of the gorge, finding clues: signs of scuff marks there, large dried pools of blood there, and dropped pony belongings here. Eventually, one of the pools of blood culminated to the body of a dead pony. The stallion, from what they could tell from the remains, had been brutally stabbed, repeatedly, with what appeared to be a pointed object. Spears, Shining had assumed; diamond dogs had been seen using them before.

Thankfully, it would seem that whatever group had done the abductions had made themselves plainly obvious to see. The enemy, now identified to be diamond dogs, had a single cave entrance marked with two torches, with a makeshift wooden encampment outside of it, with towers manned by guards.

"That's a lot of them... and they're all a little too close to Ponyville. They're just a stone's throw away from the trade routes," said a guard. "How do we get in?"

"Captain," Raymond said to Shining. "Are we allowed to terminate the enemies?"

"No..." Shining began. The group's attention was refocused as they heard several diamond dogs shouting from the encampment below. They quickly ducked and peeked over the edge to see what had caused the commotion.

The guards in the camp scrambled to their feet as they led in several ponies, shackled in chains. They prodded them with the spears, goading them towards the cave entrance. One of them, an earth stallion, resisted, and was brutally slammed in the face with the flat end of one of the dog's spears as the mare next to him rushed to his side.

"Yes..." Shining corrected. "Your Captain speaks highly of you, Corporal." He looked at Raymond. "How experienced are you with that weapon of yours? Think you can cover us as we advance towards the camp?"

"I'm a very good shot, Captain," Raymond said, putting a single arrow into his bowstring. "And yes, I can."

"I'm afraid I'll have to go on more than just your word. Think you can take out the guard on the tower?" The camp was located a long way at the bottom of the gorge. There was a small path nearby, most likely used by the diamond dogs to leave and enter the canyon. The tower in question was located directly over the gate that the prisoners were led through, with a single armored diamond dog standing guard on top.

"Easily done." Raymond pulled the bowstring back, letting his crosscom's sniper-calibrated detection algorithms inform him of wind speed and distance to target. He aimed slightly to the right, and let loose the arrow, exiting the bowstring with a single wisp of sound. The shot was extremely accurate, connecting with the tower dog's neck as he crumpled without being noticed.

"Wow," said another guard. "That's actually quite impressive."

"I was a candidate for my nation's competitive archery team. I had a lot of practice." He shrugged, figuring it would have been a much better explanation than saying that he hunted animals in the woods as a hobby. "And I guess you can say I have some extra aid, as well." The existence of the crosscom was still under wraps.

"Well, I think we're in good hooves then. Scope, you stay here," Shining whispered, adopting the moniker that the Ghosts called him. "Sky Watch, you stay here with him and keep watch on our advance. The rest of you fillies, prepare to advance."

The remaining five guards, including Shining, began slowly down the path. It was worn, and hung precariously close to the canyon's walls. Shining mentally cursed as he tried to keep quiet as soon as possible, trying to avoid falling off when he had to round the corners that led to yet another dangerous downhill path.

"So..." Watch said, a crossbow on his back. "Are all of you humans good at fighting?" The unicorn's horn glowed and he pulled it out, holding it in a ready stance as they saw the figures of Shining and his group growing smaller as they continued down.

"Only the ones who want to be."

"Well, I guess I can understand that... not every pony is a royal guard, after all. Oh, they're getting close now, so you can start picking them off."

"Gladly." He notched another arrow and brought the string back again. This time the target was a guard on patrol on the outer wall closest to where Shining would exit. If he nailed him, they could make it to the wall undetected. He fired the arrow and watched as the tiny black pinprick shot through his nightvision, slamming directly into the side of yet another dog's neck.

"That makes two," Watch whispered. "Look out, there's another one coming down the other wall."

On the wall adjacent to the previous target's walked another guard. The dog stopped, aiming his head up, sniffing the air, suspicious of a new scent he caught in the wind. Raymond quickly brought out another arrow, his crosscom's field ID scans now completed, filling his peripheral vision with red diamonds, indicating threats. Unfortunately, that also included the ponies, as well. He let fly the arrow again and killed yet another wall sentry, setting his signatures for Shining and his group to green squares for friendlies.

The diamond dogs had closed the gate leading into their cave base, but the outer encampment's gate was now unguarded. Raymond could see Shining and his group quickly stacked up against the walls, as the captain slowly opened the wooden gate and poked his head in for a quick look.

By this point, the only guards remaining were a few located at a tent on the far side of the entrance, and two guarding the cave base's gate. Shining's objective was to ascertain whether or not there actually were abductions in the area. Now that they had their proof, they had to act, before the ponies were moved elsewhere... or killed. Raymond had been assured that the royal guards were highly trained, but he never really trusted anybody that wasn't a Ghost. Lived longer that way.

He fired off two more arrows, killing the guards outside the cave. That drew the attention of the ones by the tents, who quickly moved over to investigate the bodies as Shining's small group of guards quickly overwhelmed them with speed and magic. They lined up against the door, Shining waving back up to their position to let them know that it was clear, when...

One of the guards screamed as what looked like an eagle's claw smashed through the door and grabbed him by the neck and squeezed hard, snapping his neck. Raymond slightly flinched as even though he couldn't hear it, he definitely felt it. The strange creature that walked out of the cave easily shrugged off an attack by another guard, knocking him aside and then impaling the stunned guard by throwing a spear directly at his side.

"Oh, buck!" Watch said. "It's--it's a griffon!" He and Raymond began firing arrows, which seemed to do no harm as the griffon seemed to know how to dodge them. Raymond cursed the fact that arrows took time to reach their targets. If he had his M107 right now, he could end this all in one shot.

They watched as he quickly threw another guard to the side, a gray unicorn who smashed into the wooden wall. The single remaining guard, a pegasus, attempted to flank the griffon, jumping in the air behind him and preparing to dive in order to hit the griffon's spine. He was swatted out of the air as the griffon suddenly swung around, bringing his talons around as he did so, hitting the guard and sending him flying into the rock wall.  Shining was charging a spell when the griffon flew straight at him, knocking him to the ground.

They had some sort of in-between with insults as the griffon pulled Shining in towards the cave as more diamond dogs came out, these ones with shields. That would make killing them a bit harder.

"Damn it!" Watch cursed, holding his crossbow steady as he tried to piece together a new method of action.

"Shit," Raymond said. He activated his local crosscom communicator. "This is Scope to Talon, over."

"...signal spotty... Scope... situation?" Talbot's voice was barely discernible at best through the static.

"Captain Shining Armor is down, along with four guards. Situation is FUBAR, repeat, situation is FUBAR."

"...down... if that's the case... then I'll speak... Celestia." Talbot went quiet for a moment as the sound of static played for several minutes. "...there we... and got it! That's much better. Thank you, Princess. I don't know how the hell you did it, but you boosted the signal. Alright, Scope, what the hell's going on?"

"Captain Shining has been captured. We have four guards down. We have confirmed civilian hostages. Hostiles sighted being led by a griffon. Situation is fucked, sir, please advise."

There was the sound of murmurs in the background as Talbot spoke with Celestia about the next course of action. "Well, Scope, now you get to do what you were trained to do. We can't risk the captain getting killed, and we can't reach you in time before they end up trying something, which, judging by the reports the Equestrians have had on their limited encounters, they definitely will. The griffon is secondary priority: the captain and the hostages come first. The situation is fucked now, so it's your job to un-fuck it, am I clear?"

It was fortune that Raymond wore a balaclava over his face, for the smile that he had on his face would have had every living being shit their pants out of fear. "Crystal clear, sir." He slung his bow over his shoulder and stood up, his mind taking in the situation that lay before him.

"Uh... Scope?" Watch nervously asked. "I heard the orders, but are you sure you want to go alone? I mean, maybe we should just stay here and wait for help."

Raymond looked at him, his eyes blocked by his tactical visor. His smile hadn't faded a single bit. "I don't know what you're talking about, Watch. I was never here." Watch's mouth opened agape as he witnessed Raymond's form quickly begin to blend in with his background as the Ghost's camouflage activated. At least Watch knew the reason why Celestia had wanted to send one of them along now...




There were five of them, armed with shields and spears, but Raymond had the advantage. These idiots were cannon fodder, and it showed: they were sloppily trained, fanning out in random directions with one actually sitting down at the base's gate and pulling out a flask to drink. Against a trained commando like him, they stood no chance.

He casually strolled in through the gate, turning left and walking towards a diamond dog who was poking his spear at the guard who'd been tossed into the wooden wall. The unicorn moaned and gave a small kick. The diamond dog's mouth gave what seemed to be a laugh that sounded like it was thrown into a blender. The dog raised his spear, about to give the killing blow.

Raymond stealthily walked up behind him, uncloaking in the shadow that eclipsed most of the camp. The canyon, although a good place to hide, proved to be very useful to Raymond as it covered any part of the camp that was without torches in near pitch-black darkness. He tapped him on the shoulder, uttering a single word that struck terror into the dog's eyes.

"Boo." The combat knife slid in cleanly at the base of the dog's head where his throat connected, going straight up into his brain and killing him instantly. The spear dropped to the ground with a dull clack as the body hid the ground with a hard thud. Good. That was one out of the way, with only four more. The unicorn seemed to still be alive, and the others hadn't noticed the untimely death of their comrade.

Raymond took a better look at the unicorn. Still alive, but he wouldn't live long unless he got help. And he wouldn't get help unless Raymond cleared out this place in record time. He took a knee and pulled out his bow, eyes narrowing through his nightvision as he surveyed his hapless targets. Naturally, the one sitting at the door would die last. The bastard was black-out drunk and sleeping now, making him an easy kill, so Raymond decided to leave him for last.

The other three were quickly dropped as the arrows found their mark. The range at which he was firing essentially meant that he couldn't miss. The snore of the gate guard was abruptly interrupted as a single arrow made its way into his neck. Raymond cloaked again, walking towards the door, but stopped at the body of the guard who'd had his neck snapped. The pony's eyes were still open in shock, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Raymond crouched before him, uttering a whispered final rite, before closing the pegasus's eyes.

He stood up and gazed into the barely-lit hallway that led into the depths of this base... or rather, prison. All that was left now was to find and rescue Shining Armor and the hostages. And perhaps kill every single diamond dog he came across.




"You won't get away with this. The Princesses will make the Griffon Empire answer for this!" Shining shouted. He hit the ground with a yelp of pain as the griffon threw him into a cell and slammed the door shut.

"You damn ponies have had this coming for a long time now. You take our lands and spit in our faces? Well, guess what? After hundreds of years, we're going to return the favor. In blood." The griffon laughed loudly as he pranced off.

"Agh... damn, that hurts..." Shining said, standing up and looking around.

"Um... are... are you okay?" Shining looked into the dark corners of the cell, trying to see who had just spoken to him. A jasmine yellow pegasus with turquoise mane stepped into the light. "Are you a royal guard? Were you sent here to save us?" she whispered. "But if you're here, then..."

"The griffon got the jump on us, I'm afraid." Shining let out a sharp gasp of pain as he tried to stand. Raindrops quickly caught him before he hit the ground. "We... we had two more farther away, but I don't know if they can do anything now."

"I... I'm Raindrops, from Ponyville. Who are you?" The pegasus noticed that the unicorn's armor was purple, much more different than... oh, Celestia... could he possibly be...?

"I'm Shining Armor. Captain of the Guard."

"Oh, so you're...! You were the one at the wedding!"

"I see somepony remembers me," he laughed, before wincing again. "Gah... okay, I should stop doing that..."

"Do you know what the griffons want with us?"

Shining shook his head. "Whatever it is, it can't be good. We got reports of abductions in the area, so we came to investigate, but... I never realized that the griffons would be involved in this..."

"How can you be so sure? What if he's not working with them?"

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. But we can't be too sure."

"So... what do we do now then? Oh, have you seen my friend Ditzy? She's a pegasus, gray fur, yellow mane?" She looked into his eyes, intent on finding out what happened to her friend.

"I'm sorry, Raindrops, I didn't see any other pony coming in here." She sat down, unwilling to process the series of events that had led up to this. And then there had been the body, which was a horrifying sight. They'd only just recently cleaned it out as she hoped that she wouldn't end up like the unfortunate pony did.

"Are we... going to... die here...?" she barely croaked.

"Don't worry." Shining put a hoof on her shoulder. "In the name of the Princess, I swear that I will get you safely out of this." It was most likely an empty promise, he realized. He didn't know what they would do, or whether he would live long enough to see her out of this. He just hoped that whatever course of action Celestia had decided to take, it would save them before things got worse.




The last guard stood quavering in his boots. His eyes quickly darted left and right, looking down the hallway, trying to see where the arrows had come from that killed the rest of the diamond dogs around him. It was sudden: one minute, they had been all conversing together and drinking, and before he knew it, the rest of his kin were all on the floor dead, arrows protruding from them.

"Come out!" he said shakily. "I--I know you're here!" He slightly lowered his shield to get a better look down the hallway...

...only to receive an arrow straight through his eye socket, killing him instantly as his body recoiled backwards and landed on the floor. Raymond quickly doused the torches with the cups on the floor, making the hallway pitch black. Just the way he preferred it. It made the enemies easier to stalk with his nightvision, and he always wanted to play the role of the Boogeyman.

There had been a lot of diamond dogs inside the cave, in the long winding hallways and the large high-roofed rooms. He'd taken express care to make sure every single one of them didn't live long enough to regret their decision in aiding the griffon. And for the griffon... well, he was sure that the son of a bitch definitely wasn't going to be leaving alive. Perhaps he could grab something useful from him. As far as things were concerned, rogue elements splintered from nations were common enough back home. Having information on whether or not this was an official operation could do a lot in diplomatic affairs.

"Well, well, what do we have here...?" he said, walking past the bodies and entering a grand entranceway. It had stairs that led to a second floor and various rooms, and a great red banner hung from the ceiling that depicted a rearing griffon. That was a pretty big tip-off that something official was going on here. Other than that, it seemed that the diamond dogs had been armed with well-forged armor and weapons, something that Raymond assumed that mongrels like them shouldn't normally have.

He quickly dodged behind a pillar as he heard shouting coming from above, and a figure walking across the balcony.

"...and don't come back until you've dealt with them all! Honestly, you diamond dogs are absolutely worthless! You're lucky that General Strongbeak hasn't given me an official legion yet. Maybe when they arrive, you can witness the might of a true griffon soldier. Now piss off, you damn dogs, I have a prisoner to interrogate!" The griffon huffed off through another door.

So that was where they kept the prisoners. Raymond weighed his choices: either find the office that the griffon had and pilfer everything he could for information, or follow the griffon and find Shining, then kill the griffon and free the hostages. The latter sounded like a much more appealing option.

	
> A Worrying Missive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Talbot leaned back as Raymond's communications feed remained off. He sat across from Princess Celestia, looking over a map brought up from the Canterlot royal archives, detailing the area around Ponyville and Ghastly Gorge.

"What do you reckon is going on here, Princess?" he said, looking to her. They sat in her chambers late at night, with only a pair of guards in the room to monitor Talbot. "I mean, these diamond dogs... and griffons. You know more than me, so what's the deal with them?"

Celestia sighed. "The diamond dogs have long since been only a minor annoyance to Equestria. They mostly reside away from major settlements, living underground where they can dig in peace to look for precious gems, hence their namesake. The griffons, much like I previously stated, are a more militaristic society. But we have been at peace with them for the longest time now... I wonder what could have changed? I will have to ask my ambassador about it."

"Rogue elements of nations leading small bands of other armed groups weren't entirely uncommon in my world. Perhaps, with any due luck, this is just some renegade griffon that we're dealing with. But I'm not holding my breath, these sorts of situations usually have a really deep rabbit hole full of secrets associated with them."

"I agree... this has been a very worrying turn of events for just a routine investigation."

"Well, I assure you, Princess. Corporal Raymond is highly skilled, and my decision to send him in alone was not one made lightly. The nature of Raymond's specialization means that oftentimes, he would work separate from the rest of my team, and he's become exceedingly proficient at engaging in situations with overwhelming odds."

"I would hope so. This situation has already become a textbook nightmare, Captain. I would hope that sending Luna with reinforcements can help to alleviate the situation, provided they arrive quickly."

Talbot chuckled. "With all due respect, Princess, I know Raymond well. When I give him an order much like the one you just heard, he does his job very thoroughly. I suppose I should have thought about that sooner, since we're out of communications range with him now: if you wanted prisoners to interrogate, he won't be leaving anyone alive."

"I do suppose that would be a problem. But it is as you have said yourself, Captain. The well-being of the hostages... or rather, prisoners, must come first. You certainly speak differently to your squad when the situation requires it to."

"I suppose it's two-fold thing, Your Majesty. The part of me that's human says there's always something to question. I don't have much time to do that. My own commanding officer has said that I can be a bit too non-minded for a Ghost sometimes, but I know when things have to get done. It just hasn't reached that point where push has to come to shove."

"And when it comes to shove..."

"We are Ghosts, Your Majesty, and your initial misgivings concerning the nature of our occupation is one hundred percent correct. We are ruthless. We win at any cost. Raymond just personifies it better than the rest of us do."




The dogs had seemingly vacated the halls now, either staying in their quarters or taking their guard positions, being deathly quiet. Raymond assumed that many of them most likely didn't want to run into their charming little commander for fear of being reprimanded for a minor mistake.

The prison hall was sparsely decorated. The heavy gated doors that led into the two cell blocks proper were unlocked and rusty, with only but a single guard at the doors, which Raymond gladly relieved of his worldly duties with another arrow. He took special care to open the door as slowly as possible, earning only a single creak when he had opened it all the way.

He walked in, form shimmering slightly as it refracted the torch next to him, looking around. He stood at the end of a hallway, as cells lined the right side of his sight. He slowly walked down the hall, bow at the ready, eyeing each cell as he passed by them. They were badly-lit, and hard to see in conventionally, but his crosscom began lighting up with more red diamonds as the ponies within were highlighted. And the cell block was large, definitely enough to hold many ponies. Perhaps even the population of the nearby town, actually, though Raymond had no idea how many there were.

The griffon wasn't here, which meant that he could only have moved to the other one instead. Raymond quickly backtracked, leaning in to see the griffon loudly talking to some pony in the cell at the end of the hall.

"...so that's it? That's your game?" he heard Shining say. "Our relations have been nothing but diplomatic, and now you're--"

"Diplomatic? We held our tongues when pony settlers came and settled on our lands. We held our tongues when they began to expand. We held our tongues when they expanded the borders. We held our tongues when we allowed you to undercut our economy by importing pony products. All those, we could tolerate. But now your kind are beginning to expand around us, trying to snatch up our territory away from the gaze of our cities!"

"Those territories were granted to us rightfully by--"

"By the undercutting of our politics through your bribes and your goods! All those lands that you have taken rightfully belong to the Griffon Empire!" The griffon had spread his wings, leaning in and practically roaring the words at the wounded unicorn. "You will be taken back to our capital. Our leader would most certainly like to talk to you."

The target was in sight. Raymond raised his bow, aiming for the center of mass on the griffon: his body.




Shining could hardly believe this. Was this griffon really implying that the Empire would really go to war with Equestria? He'd seen tidbits about their lands from excerpts and papers: they had a military society that only began to bend towards the political sphere only several hundred years ago. Past records indicated that the griffons were a rather war-like nation, and only left Equestria alone because of the significance of the Princesses to the world following the defeat of Discord in ancient times.

The griffon stood outside the cell, as Shining gritted his teeth, unable to stand properly without Raindrops helping him. He opened his mouth to respond to the griffon's comment, when...

One arrow hit the side of the griffon as he grimaced, turning to his right.

Then another arrow hit him in the chest. Then one in the neck. Then one in his leg. He recoiled backwards at the sudden onslaught of projectiles, seemingly appearing out of thin air in the lit hallway.

"Guh--who's there--!" he gurgled, and was cut off with more arrows into the chest again, eventually falling to the ground dead, as the body bled out.

Shining could hear footsteps: faint, but distinguishable if one actually paid attention. Raymond's form dematerialized before him, as the Ghost grabbed the keys from the griffon's body, looking at the strange keyring with almost nearly-identical keys wrapped around it.

"Took twelve arrows. Bastard's tougher than I thought," he said, trying the keys one by one in the cell's lock, before finally opening it with a large rust-covered key. "You alright ,sir?"

"Are you crazy...?" Shining said. "You came in here alone?"

"Of course I did, sir. We couldn't risk you getting killed, and our priority was to rescue these prisoners."

"I saw all the diamond dogs on the way in. That would have easily taken a whole company of royal guard, even more, just to break through. And you managed to get through all that?"

"I'm a Ghost, sir. Fighting against impossible odds is what we do."

"Praise Celestia that you did, I suppose... we should have waited for backup." He got to his feet, Raindrops helping him as he did so. "Raindrops... let's go find your friend."

The pegasus nodded. "O--okay..." She looked warily at the human, before aiding Shining as he limped out of his cell.

"These cells are all inhabited, sir," Raymond said. "There's only one way into the prison cells." He gave the keyring to Shining, who took it in his mouth. "I'll stand guard to make sure nothing sneaks up on us. I think it'll be better for all of us if the ponies get rescued by ponies, and not me." His form shimmered then disappeared again, as Shining heard slow footsteps going down the hall.

Raindrops and Shining exchanged another surprised look. "Well, it was the Princess's idea to bring him along..." he said.




Luna and her wing of twenty Night Guard descended upon the edge of Ghastly Gorge. Luna's sight in the darkness was considerably better than most ponies, and she could pick out Sky Watch standing guard on the edge, and veered her course towards him.

Sky Watch heard the telltale sound of wings flapping and turned just in time to see Luna land before him. "Your Majesty! Thank goodness you're here. Captain Shining has been captured, and then Princess Celestia gave the order to--"

"I know, my dear guard. She has sent in one of the Ghosts ahead of us, yes?" She walked past him and looked down into the canyon, making out the bodies in the encampment below. "He certainly does work fast. Night Guard! Prepare to descend. There are ponies that need our help, and we shall not let them be in harm's way for a moment longer!"

Sky Watch opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Luna.

"And you, solar guard. You shall enter the fray with us." She picked him up using magic as Luna and her guard flapped their wings to begin quick descent into the camp. "Onwards!"

"No, wait! Your Majesty! I don't like heightttsssssssssss--!" Watch shouted as they jumped off the cliff.




Three quivers: that was how many Raymond had brought along. Thankfully, he'd only barely used up most of his first quiver when he took up his position at the prison cell entrances when some diamond dogs strolled in, seeing the body he'd left there. One of them stood in shock as he received an arrow to the face, but the other ran.

He cursed. His cloak fizzled out as he ran into the hallway to give chase to the beast. The problem with active camouflage was that, even though it was extremely useful in all sorts of combat situations, you couldn't go faster than a quick walk with it on or it break the refraction, turning you into a walking blur that's clearly outlined against the background if anyone just so happened to see you.

He quickly fired an arrow at the dog's back, pinging off of the back armor. He cursed again.

"Intruders! Intruders in the cells!" the dog shouted.

Raymond immediately armed his bow with another arrow, firing into the doorway the alarmed guard had went through as more began to pour out. The front of the body has easier points to hit compared to the back, fortunately, and his arrows quickly found their mark as the dogs quickly began to close the distance. He felled at least seven across the balcony's long stretch before he activated his cloak again, quickly sidestepping as they slammed a spear down on to the ground where he'd been before.

"What? What is this magic?" one of them shouted. He began sniffing the air, as Raymond quickly bounded down the stairs, aiming another arrow at one of the dog's necks. He forgot they could detect scent. That would be problematic. But they were just too close to the cells, and Shining was most likely still trying to get the prisoners out. Raymond needed to buy them time.

The group of guards turned to one of their comrades as he gurgled and put a hand up to his neck, an arrow dug into it.

"He's over there!" one of them said, pointing at the stairs, noting the direction the arrow's shaft was facing from the neck. They raised their weapon and began to charge down the stairs.

More arrows, and another two felled. There seemed to be quite the number of guards within this cozy prison complex, because they just kept appearing from various doorways. Raymond quickly hopped over the stair railing, decloaking, firing at the descending dogs until he heard more clamor coming in from behind him.

"Onwards! For Equestria!" he heard a female voice shout.

A giant pile of diamond dogs exploded from the atrium entrance as Princess Luna regally walked into the room, her guards on both sides, and Watch levitating his crossbow. She gave a cursory glance to the Ghost as he fired his arrows into several of the shocked dogs before cloaking again.

"There they are! Attack!" shouted one of her Night Guard. The armored pegasi all jumped into action, flying towards the diamond dogs, deftly avoiding their spears and giving them bucks to the chests hard enough to dent their armor. The diamond dogs were easily no match for the trained skill of the royal guard, and were soon mostly eliminated, either through Watch's bolts, or the hard-hitting bucks from the pegasi guard.

"Where is the Ghost?" Luna asked Watch. "I saw him but a moment ago." Watch merely shrugged.

"Your Majesty!" The group turned to see Shining and Raindrops standing at the top of the stairs, Ditzy next to her, with a large group of scared and tired ponies behind them. "Thank... uh, you, that you're here." The ponies stood relieved when they saw the Princess of the Night and her guards. "It's okay, everypony. We're safe now."

"And what of our friend?" Luna asked. "The one who was sent in to help you? Where is he now?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know, Princess," Shining said, as the guards quickly filed past the ponies on the stairs, searching the rooms to ensure that there were no more diamond dogs left.




The ponies slowly filed out of the canyon as the awaiting royal guard carriages took them back to Ponyville, where they would be rehabilitated and asked questions about their events prior to disappearance. This event had shocked many ponies when they learned the news: Celestia had thought it best to simply let the truth be known, and given the amount of ponies that had been taken from Ponyville alone, it would have been only a matter of time before the truth had gotten out.

Raymond stood inside the griffon warden's room, looking through various papers for information as Luna, Shining, and Watch entered.

"You certainly made yourself scarce," Watch said.

"Couldn't risk it," he said. "Don't want too many knowing that I exist. The pegasus, I could do, since she was with Shining. The others, not so much."

Shining merely nodded in agreement, having Raindrops sworn to secrecy over the conversation they'd held at the jail cell with Raymond. They all began to fan out in the rooms, looking for any correspondences that could relate something useful to the commanders back at Canterlot.

"Wait... I found something," Watch said. The other three quickly walked over to read the opened letter, which had been sealed with an official wax seal. "That's the seal of the Griffon Empire..."

(===)

To Commander Stonehide,

Your orders are to use these diamond dogs to abduct and send as many ponies back to griffon territory as possible. Earth ponies are preferred, pegasi are mostly useless unless their wings are clipped, and unicorns can be held under control, if you use the devices that we have provided you. Once you have prepared the first batch of labor, send them along with a response to this letter, resealed, so that we know that you have accomplished your task. The well-being of the ponies are a secondary concern, so long as you can keep them all in line, using any means necessary.

We have begun a great undertaking, a plan long in the making since our hallowed meeting years ago. The Equestrians are needed for the balance to maintain the sun and moon, but once we have taken over, such things will no longer be needed. The Griffon Empire was once one of the strongest nations that this world has seen, and we will soon restore ourselves to the same glory that our ancestors once held, and perhaps even surpass them. We will not be left in the dust.

Your role is small one, but one among many to help our plans reach fruition.

Do not fail.

General Strongbeak

(===)

Raymond sighed. Like Russian ultranationalists before the EndWar began, trying to play the black market and gain arms and money to take over themselves... he'd fondly recalled a Ghost team being sent in to deal with them. Why was it always the generals that launched idiotic plans like these?

"This is very concerning evidence," Luna said, taking the letter. She folded it up and kept it in her combat saddlebag. "My sister will most certainly wish to hear of this."

"Well, let's not keep her waiting, then..." Shining said.




The sun was beginning to rise when Talbot first received word back from Raymond.

"Sir, the prisoners have been secured. They're currently being rehabilitated by the treatment units that the Princess Celestia sent at Princess Luna's request."

"Good. I take it there were no casualties." The communicator was on speaker, so that Celestia could hear, as well.

"There were bodies of several ponies, sir. There was nothing we could do to help them."

Celestia closed her eyes. "I had thought as much. They will be given proper burials and their families notified... in the case that we are able to identify their... bodies." Such magnitudes of death was something uncommon in Equestria, Talbot assumed. A nicety that only those who have never seen war could enjoy.

"And what else, Scope?" Talbot asked. "Did you get anything useful?"

"We found a correspondence, sir... an official one, from one General Strongbeak, of the Griffon Empire."

Talbot looked to Celestia. "Ring any bells, Your Majesty?"

"He's a... rather high-ranking general in the Griffon Empire's military. Even though they're at peace with us, the griffons have always seen fit to maintain a standing military, claiming that they were 'adhering to tradition'. I fear that may not have been the wisest choice when we had first met. The griffon military can hold quite the influence on the political court."

"Met? Have you fought the griffons before?" Talbot asked.

"No, we only met long after the griffons had united their clans under a single banner, belonging to the Griffon Emperor... but we've always been on such amiable terms, and their ambassador has been more than forthcoming in trade and good relations with Equestria."

"So they have politicians, and a separate military ruling party... that sounds oddly familiar..."

"You have nations much like the griffons back home?"

"Do we?" he laughed. "We were at war with a nation much like the griffons before we came here. All hopped up on proud military traditions and having a military that could easily influence the political court by either force or words. Mostly force."

"Then as someone who is well-versed in this subject, what do you assume has happened?"

"Most likely readying for war. If they're really trying to push for it, then..."

A puff of smoke appeared before Celestia as a sealed letter appeared before her.

"I... oh, my, this is from my student. I apologize, Captain Talbot, I must attend to this immediately." She began to pull out a scroll and quill, and began writing.

"It's no problem, Your Majesty," Talbot said, looking back to the map. "We all have our priorities."

"Sir, Princess Luna is in possession of the correspondence. We are on our way back to Canterlot," Raymond said.

"Affirmative, Scope. I want you both to report directly to Princess Celestia's chambers once you land. No exceptions."

"Understood, sir."




Luna and Raymond quickly entered the room, with a bandaged Shining standing at attention. First Celestia had read the letter, and then passed it over to Talbot.

"Any opinions, Captain Talbot?" Celestia asked.

"This is some pretty damning evidence, Your Majesty. It's rather surprising that he didn't burn this, but it would seem that they wanted this letter returned to them as proof to ensure it isn't just any letter from a random soldier. Where did you say he kept this?" Talbot asked, turning to Raymond.

"In his office. He had a lot of letters on his desk. It was a coincidence that Sky Watch managed to find them... he had a lot of other wax-sealed letters on his desk, as well, but most were either useless to the matter at hand or completely irrelevant," Raymond said.

Talbot looked thoughtfully at the letter. "...is contacting the griffons possible? Nothing blatant, obviously, but if they're trying something..."

Celestia nodded. "It can be done. Ambassador Quillfeather has been the diplomat to Equestria for the past several decades. I will check in with how he is doing, and update myself upon affairs within griffon borders. The letter, however... is top secret. Aside from those of you in this room, Sky Watch is also to be sworn to secrecy."

"Done and done, Princess," Shining said. "Watch has assured his cooperation in this matter."

"And of the ponies, Captain Shining?"

Shining shook his head. "They're fine... but the truth of knowing that the abductions have happened... and the deaths... have left most of them on edge. My own sister could hardly believe the truth herself. With Princess Luna's permission, I'm keeping a small detachment of royal guards there in case any further trouble happens."

"And from what I can understand from Captain Talbot, Corporal Raymond's exposure has been... minimal, aside from guards who have deployed on this mission." Talbot was about to ask a question, but was interrupted. "And the servants here, too, Captain, they have also been sworn to secrecy. It is no matter, since they reside on the grounds anyhow."

"I agree," Celestia said. "And with that, I believe that concludes this mission. You are all hereby dismissed."




"I don't like this, sir," Raymond said, following Talbot back to their quarters. "I don't think somebody would just make a letter like that just for shits and giggles, even if he is some high-ranking general. We need to prepare."

"And prepare we will," Talbot responded. "Better to have and not need, than need and not have. Work with Doctor Harvey and prepare new armaments. If we're lucky, this is all just to scare the Equestrians into meeting some demands, most likely just to hand back their lands. It'll be quick and harmless, and the worst is that some ponies get their homes moved somewhere else."

"And if we're wrong?"

"Then I don't think they have enough royal guards to hold off a griffon army. The griffons are militaristic. You can bet your damn ass that they won't be lacking in numbers or training. And I doubt the royal guards are well-equipped enough to fight a war, they might have the training, but they certainly won't have the advantage in numbers, even with their garrison at Stalliongrad, which the Princess tells me numbers around several thousand strong."

"You expect us to get involved?" Raymond asked, stopping Talbot in the middle of the hallway.

"Well, I certainly don't want to find out what happens if we end up in the graces of a species that adheres to 'military tradition'. The Equestrians have tolerance on their list. I'm not too keen on finding out if the griffons have the same. I think I'd rather take my chances protecting the people who've been good to us so far, wouldn't you?"

"...you have a point." Raymond nervously rubbed scratched his face. "Just thinking about actual war in this place seems a bit... odd. I mean, at first, it seemed a bit idyllic, and suddenly, I get called in on this op, and shit just hits the fan. Don't need a reminder to seeing how some of the prisoners reacted to seeing bodies."

Talbot gave a small smirk. "I guess they're more human than we thought, huh?"




The Ghosts and Harvey stood in their quarters, looking at a cloth map of Equestria, the most recently made one given to them by the Canterlot royal archives. To the west, however, lay the territory of the Griffon Empire. Several juts from Equestrian lands into the griffon's, and a note left by the cartographer, said that the change of ownership was recent, less than several decades ago.

"Whoa, wait, let me get this straight: you're telling me that the griffons are going to try to pull some shit on the ponies? Griffons? Pulling some crazy shit? Against ponies?" Mendoza asked. "Well, that's another thing I can scratch off my bucket list: mythical creatures going to war against pastel-colored ponies."

"You're serious about this, sir?" Pastor asked Talbot, looking over the Equestrian land map that sat on the table. "I mean, from what I can see of the map, Canterlot's closer to griffon borders than it is to Stalliongrad. If they launch a surprise attack, they won't have enough time to retaliate before the griffons are knocking on the castle's front door."

"Then we have to hope that it isn't going to be a surprise," Talbot said. "Princess Luna has informed me that she will secretly be keeping an eye on the griffon borders to make sure they don't mobilize right outside. With that, if they don't want us to see it coming, they won't be able to do much."

"And of the Ghosts, Captain?" Harvey asked. "I can hardly imagine you all just sitting here waiting for something to happen... if it does happen, that is."

Raymond checked his M107's empty load slot before sliding in the magazine. "Then we prepare. Make weapons."

"Yes, well, we should look over several more of your plans later. Perhaps we can fashion something, a primitive gunpowder weapon, perhaps?"

"Won't work, Doc," Mendoza said. "I asked around earlier today, and they don't have any gunpowder here, much less know what it is. What a shame, too, I was going to try to make some explosives. They told me they used fireworks, but they use magic for that, not gunpowder."

"Well, Corporal Raymond downloaded some schematics for basic gunpowder explosives, I suppose that can appease your affinity for explosives for the time being," Harvey laughed. "I've also completed a basic crossbow weapon for you all. Small, and compact, but with enough stopping power as the recurve bow that Corporal Raymond is using, but perhaps not nearly as accurate."

Harvey reached down below the desk and pulled out a heavy wooden chest, unlocking it with a key. Within lay several pristine crossbows, folded up neatly and held within the box's molds. On the door side, there lay several bolts for test-firing.

"Nice, doc," Mendoza said, picking one up and extending the lath with a click. "Real nice, it looks like something you'd see from the Middle Ages."

"Well, if I didn't have the plans, these things would have been nearly impossible to make on such short notice," Harvey said. "It would just require too much trial and error to perfect the designs."

"And I'll take a look at those explosives designs you have later, Doc," Mendoza said, locking the lath into place and gently replacing the crossbow within the box.

"I'll take stock of all of our gear, boss," Pastor said. "Our sensor grenades will likely come in handy, and so will the recon drone. We can be thankful that they gave us the extended field operations model this time. The drone can recharge on its own instead of having to replace batteries after every mission."

"Preparations will begin in earnest tomorrow, gentlemen," Talbot said. "As will deliberations on the probable conflict. Until then, start drawing out plans. Shell, I want you to mark and detail every single bit of terrain and any landmarks in griffon territory, and get me as much information as you can on the cities. Scope, you're in charge of weapons and armaments, and so you're working with Harvey. We have our MR8s, but I don't want to be caught with our pants down if we run out of ammo. Fuse, you... just try not to blow anything up."

"Will do, boss," Mendoza said, looking at schematics for a basic powderkeg explosive.




That same day, late at night, escaping the gaze of the Night Guard pegasi that patrolled the borders, a lone griffon entered Equestria. The young griffon was wearing what seemed to be scribe's robes, and wore glasses. He tripped a few times as he bounded his way through the forest in darkness. He lamented the state of his clothes, but thought nothing more of it as he avoided the gaze another pair of pegasi in the night skies.

Something had happened back home in the griffon capital of Tesseraka. He was tasked with a mission, a mission that brought him to Equestria. A mission that he had promised his father to carry out.

He looked down at the small cuts on his body. "Oh, dear..." He quickly pulled out a rag out of his bags, heavy with scrolls, and tried to pat down the wounds before they got any worse. He had taken several wounds attempting to escape from the guards, and flew mostly unbothered from Tesseraka after the guards lost his trail.

It was then that he recalled why he was in such a dreadful place. He needed to find someone... somepony. A Princess, yes. A Princess at the Equestrian city of Canterlot. But he couldn't be found, he needed to hide, stay secret. For if he was found, he would lose his life... as would many griffons and ponies, if he failed. He'd heard many things about the fearsome power of the Princesses. He could only wish that they would let him live long enough to deliver his message.

He knew what he had to do. Steeling himself, he quickly darted through the forest, only stopping once to observe the city protruding from the side of the mountain in the distance, the towers and bulwarks of the majestic castle apparent even in the darkness.

His destination would require the most tact and caution in order to reach. If he ever did, that is.
> Stranger in the Court
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Author's Note: It occurred to me that my readers might not actually know what EndWar is. This trailer will shed some light on the open-ground warfare as well as a demonstration of the United States' Freedom Star weapons system. For more Future Soldier related goodness, as well as another use of the shoulder-mounted rocket launcher and active camouflage, this trailer is worth watching. The FS trailer also shows exoskeletons (mounted on the sides of the legs), a good look at the MR8 assault rifle, as well as a US Army HAMMER drone, which is unfortunately not present in this story.




"Listen up, you pansies. Today will be a crash course in how to properly fire a ranged bolt weapon. I don't like the fact that you all got the easy way out and got crossbows, but that's out of the question. The proper thing is that you know how to fire, reload, and maintain these things." Raymond had taken up the mantle of instructor for today's course, and was lecturing Anvil Squad on the proper use of their newfound weapons.

"Eh, don't we just aim and shoot?" Mendoza said, looking down the sights of his crossbow and making a few pew-pew noises.

"Can you reload that thing, Fuse? Let's see you try it."

"Yes, sir, instructor Raymond, sir," Mendoza said humorously. He grabbed a bolt from the table in front of him and attempted to pull back the string on the bow. "Uh, heh... this thing's being, uh... a bit... annoying..." he said, straining as he continued attempting to lock the string.

Raymond walked over, snatching the crossbow from Mendoza's fumbling hands, and effortlessly armed the bow, slamming the bolt into the notch, before handing it back to Mendoza without a word.

"Oh... so that's how you load it..." Mendoza muttered. He brought up the iron sights and fired as the bolt found its target in a giant circular target, made of hay, and painted with red circles. "See, near the center. Not bad, right?"

"You going to be using that thing in hallways all the time, Fuse? You expect your enemies to run up to shake your hand while you point that thing in their face?" Raymond said. "Back fifty meters, then let's see how well you do."

Mendoza shrugged as he swiped a bolt off the table before backtracking the ordered distance. "This good enough, chief?" he shouted.

Raymond nodded. "Good enough, you assface." He walked off to the side, rejoining the observing Talbot and Pastor. "Load that thing and fire away!"

"Roger!" They could barely hear Mendoza curse as he fumbled with loading it again, earning a snicker from Pastor. He quickly recovered, though, and managed to fire the shot towards the target. It landed roughly outside the medium-ranged circle.

"Not bad... if you're blind. See, this is why I'm the marksman," Raymond said, walking downrange and inspecting the arrow's landing. "By marksman standards, a shot at long distance with your aptitude would most likely miss. Any more distance, and the shot would deviate so badly, it would fly around the planet and hit you in the ass."

"Well, sorry, Robin Hood, I didn't grow up firing pellet guns at squirrels in my backyard or hunting the local friendly neighborhood Spiderman with a fucking bow." Mendoza waved the crossbow around widely for dramatic effect.

"Then let's just hope you don't want to make some new friends up close," Raymond said, pulling out the training bolts. "At least the crossbows have plenty of punch, at least a good half to three-quarters length of penetration, can induce bleeding or some fatal shots, depending on where it hits."

"Yeah, smartass," Mendoza said, tossing the crossbow to Raymond. "Alright, Mister Sharpshooter, let's see you work your magic."

"Gladly." Raymond walked the fifty meters away from the target, standing next to Mendoza. He armed the crossbow in a flash, and brought it up to shoulder height. His eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on the target, and squeezed the handle, sending the bolt flying. It found a near-perfect shot in the center. "See? Piece of cake."

"Yeah, yeah..." Mendoza rolled his eyes. "Give me that thing," he said, swiping the crossbow away from Raymond. "If this thing fired rockets, I wouldn't have as many problems with it..." he grumbled as he went back to practicing.

Talbot merely smiled and shook his head as Raymond came back to them. "Well, I guess we should all get acquainted with those things. Any chance that you can up the power on them? You said the griffons took at least 12 arrows to take down."

"No, my arrows were just a bit flimsy," Raymond said. "Basic wood arrows with standard tipped arrowhead and fletching. I'm going to have to work on making an improved model, one with more mass and hitting power, maybe a new steel-tipped arrowhead and make it reinforced, too. The bolts already come pre-equipped, and from what I can see, the pony versions are essentially the same."

"On the assumption that we do end up finding gunpowder somehow..." Pastor said. "...do you think you could fashion an explosive ammunition or something for Mendoza to play around with?"

"Not unless it's remotely triggered. Basic gunpowder doesn't work fantastically well for explosive-tipped weaponry since it requires something to ignite it, and a mechanism for that is intricate as fuck, on top of needing to be strapped to every single bit of ammunition, as well. You're better off just trying to give him incendiary weapons, though knowing him, he'd rather it make a big boom than a big fire."

"Fuse can cope," Talbot said, folding his arms. "I sincerely doubt that we'll find any gunpowder soon unless we're all willing to toss away our MR8 bullets just to make a breaching charge."

"Toss away depleted uranium rounds just so Fuse can make a few cherry bombs? No way, boss," Pastor laughed. "Besides, don't we have our grenades?"

"Yeah..." Raymond agreed. "And didn't Fuse say something about sneaking a little extra for this mission?" He looked suspiciously at Talbot. "Did you green light anything?"

"I bent the rules a little bit..." the Ghost captain shrugged. "...he has a remote explosive..." They raised an eyebrow at him. "...okay, a few remote explosives. Hey, you never know when we might need them."

"Agreed, though it seems that it might have been a better decision than previously thought," Pastor said. "Okay, now I seriously regret not bringing along a machinegun for this mission. If griffons are really some tough assholes to deal with, I'd rather spray and pray a wall of lead at their faces than pick 'em off with crossbows."

"Relax, Shell... I have complete faith that the depleted uranium rounds have more than enough power and armor-piercing properties to rip them a new one," Raymond said.

"Yeah, let's just hope we don't end up fighting a war that's just us against them."

"Why not? We can take 'em. We just have to play dirty. Really dirty."

"Yeah, yeah, 'only the dead fight fair' and all that shit."

"Our greatest weapons are our minds, Shell. Never forget that. Now, if we're done here, you guys can continue your little firing rounds here in the courtyard. I have a meeting to attend," Talbot said.

"Will do, sir. Say hello to the good doctor for us," Pastor said, before turning back to watch Mendoza pulling dramatic action poses before firing his gun. Raymond turned around and merely started shouting at Mendoza for the lack of dedication to his training, earning a laugh from Talbot before he walked off back into the castle.




Talbot walked through the ornate halls before entering the lecture assembly room again, seeing Harvey at a lecture with the Princesses as the listeners this time, along with Captain Shining.

"...and this is the nature of the properties of your weapons?" Luna asked. "You use this... gunpowder, you call it... to use force to propel a metal object at high speeds in order to inflict damage on a target?"

"Essentially, yes, that is the gist of it, Your Majesty. Our people have adapted this method of combat to various degrees of scale. The largest of these weapons are artillery cannons which can propel an explosive projectile over the span of several miles."

"How very interesting, if a bit fearsome," she remarked.

"And that concludes my lecture on the nature of human weaponry. Any other questions?" Harvey asked, taking off his glasses. Receiving no response, he merely smiled and stepped off the stage of chalkboards and walked towards Talbot, who waited at the entrance.

"Doctor. Just bringing in the afternoon salutations from the squad," Talbot nodded.

"Well, I assume it must be fearfully bland as of this moment," Harvey said, looking to the unicorn and two alicorns conversing at a distance. "I assume you've begun battle preparations, then?"

"In earnest. Mendoza is having a little bit of trouble getting used to firing the crossbow, but I doubt there'll be much else happening otherwise."

"And your plan of attack? Do you have one? If the griffons really are intent on going to war... well, it's like you said..."

"We excel at surgical strikes, Doctor. My plan of attack would be to assassinate their military leaders and force them to surrender. The threat of constant assassination for anyone who tries to take control should curb their morale and fighting spirit long enough to force a ceasefire for talks."

"A bold move."

"A textbook move," Talbot responded. "Break the war machine by killing those in charge. Simple, clean, stealthy, and we can pull it off without pitting ourselves against an entire army. And unlike many armies, we hold the advantage in technology and training. We can do this, because we're the only ones who can. I don't expect even the Night Guard to be well-versed in black operations, much less experienced in actually doing them."

"Operating as a single team in enemy territory? Wouldn't it be dangerous if you were found out? I hate to think about it, but you can't just rule out the fact that you might just slip up somewhere down the line."

"We're Ghosts, Doctor," Talbot laughed, turning to walk away. "We were never even there. And besides, we have ways of getting out of situations when the odds are against us."

"Excuse me, Captain Talbot?" they heard Celestia say. If you could please come in, we would like to speak with you." Talbot gave a confused look to Harvey, while the uncertain doctor merely shrugged.

"Sure, Your Majesty..." Talbot said, walking up to the chairs where the three ponies sat. "Is there something you need?"

"Ah, perhaps it is best if we retired somewhere more secretive to discuss this matter... perhaps we should visit your quarters, dear sister?" Celestia asked Luna.

"I agree," Luna said. "Please, if you would all follow me. Yes, you, too, Captain Shining."

"Well, what about Doctor Harvey?" Talbot said, as he glanced at the old man walking back up to the stage and grabbing his notes off the podium. "By all rights and means, he's a scientist with high levels of access. If what we're discussing is truly important, then it would be wise for him to be as well-informed as I am."

"Very well," Luna said. "Doctor..." Harvey looked up from his notes. "...if you could also join us, it would be much appreciated. Now then, please come along. We have much to discuss."




The griffon hid in the forest, working his way around the outskirts as he passed a settlement. He lamented to his father's spirit: he was nothing but a scribe! He wasn't made to do all this sneaking about like a griffon tracker. And the trek from griffon borders had tired him out greatly, he didn't know how long he'd been traveling already... but at the very least, his rations hadn't run out.

He took a better gaze at the town from the treeline. Several familiar buildings, yes, like his father had described. He was on the right track. Ponyville, as he recalled his father speaking of this town. And judging by the closing distance towards the Equestrian capital of Canterlot in the distance, he could, perhaps, make good on his journey in a day or two.

His gaze turned from the city in the distance towards the mountain it sat on. If only the guards weren't on edge right now... his father had told him that he had to avoid being caught by the ponies at all costs. Now if only getting into the castle was as easy... He pulled out the small map and plans his father had detailed for him in order to sneak into the Canterlot royal castle, including a flight pattern that avoided the sight of guards and landed directly outside of Princess Celestia's balcony and room.

The trek up the mountain would be the most problematic one. There was barely any cover for him, and he knew there was traffic often enough on the mountain roads that he would most certainly be caught if he traveled them. His father, however, had planned for that, too. There was a small cave network that spanned the entire mountain that traveled up the length of the giant peak.  This map also had specific routes, as a number of the caves were used as checkpoints and rest stations by the royal guards.

Perhaps now would be a good time to take a nap... the mountain certainly seemed so intimidating from a distance, and a good griffon should always get his sleep...




"We would like to discuss the next course of action with you, Captain, Doctor," Luna nodded, as she floated a world map towards the conference table. It was a copy of the map that the Ghosts had looked at in their own quarters, but this one had markings for several spots of incursion as well as troop movements from inland Equestria to the griffon borders.

"Well..." Talbot said, looking over the map. "Do you believe you can hold them off well enough?" He looked around at the ponies and Doctor Harvey, all sitting around the table.

"We have two small mountain ranges that span the center of the border," Shining said. "There's only one valley pass in between them. We don't have to place a lot guards in order to hold it, but the north and south passes..." he said, pointing at them with his hoof. "...have too great a gap to defend properly. Those areas actually open plains with roads passing through them. Those two locations are where we expect the griffons to attack in full force."

"Any towns within striking distance?" Talbot asked.

"We have Manehattan in the north, and Trottingham just northeast of there, along with Fillydelphia. And in the south, we have Maremi and Appleloosa. However, Manehattan, as one of the larger population centers, already has a fairly well-trained militia, and from a recent inspection by Captain Steelhoof, they're practically royal guard material. They number around several hundred strong. We can count on their help."

"And the militia numbers from the other towns?" Harvey asked. "Hopefully their numbers can help us."

"Las Pegasus, Trottingham, Fillydelphia, and Maremi also have around several hundred, while Stalliongrad has nearly over a thousand militiaponies, not counting the royal guards. Baltimare has a few dozen trained in forest operations due to their location, while Cloudsdale, in their proud tradition, always has at least half a thousand ready to fight. Appleloosa is still a relatively new town, so I'll be surprised if they even have one already trained up. Canterlot itself also has a standing militia force, but we'll most likely have them stay here and guard the city. There are more elsewhere, so I expect around at least five to seven thousand ponies ready to answer the call to arms. Only Ponyville and Dodge Junction are without militias."

"So with that, the military count is just over ten thousand..." Talbot noted. "Can you hold the lines well enough?"

"With leadership from the royal guards, I'm confident we can hold them back," Shining said proudly.

"Good. Because that's all you'll need to do..."

"What do you have in mind, Captain Talbot?" Luna asked.

Talbot put a hand on his chin in thought, exchanging a look with Harvey. "I have a plan that could potentially nip this conflict in the bud before it gets substantially worse."

"Yes? Please, speak of this plan."

Talbot leaned in, pointing at the center pass. "You send us in."

"Are you sure? Do you intend to take on the armies of the Griffon Empire single-hoofedly?"

"Not like that, Your Majesty. The easiest way to eliminate a superior enemy force is to break the back of their fighting machine by eliminating their leaders. This, in turn, will sow chaos among their ranks as they eventually realize that their chain of command is failing. With that, you can push the griffons back into their territory and force a ceasefire or a truce."

"I understand," Luna said. "It would be far more easier to eliminate their leaders than to take substantial losses in war... though I fear for the fate of our little ponies should the conflict break out."

"I will be in charge of relief efforts, sister," Celestia said. "Do not worry, I will keep them safe."

Luna nodded. "Very well. Then, Captain Talbot, what is the course of action that we should take during this war?"

"Simple. All you need to do is hold them off. Long enough for us to accomplish our task and perhaps return with news of the emperor dead."

"To kill the griffon emperor..." Celestia said, falling to silence.

"You have relations with him?" Harvey asked.

"Yes... we have shared an amiable relationship for most of his rule. He was always so friendly, and so loyal to his subjects. He ruled fairly and evenly, much like my sister and I do here in our nation. To think that he would brazenly approve of a war like this..."

"Then perhaps all we have to do is take him in alive and bring him back for questioning," Talbot said.

Celestia gave a sad smile. "Would it that were possible... he is a very large griffon, Captain, among one of the largest ever seen in the entirety of the world. It is his royal heritage that grants him his size as well as ability to lead. He is also fierce in combat, and I fear that bringing him in may be out of the question."

"I see..." Talbot sighed. "Damn... if only it was easy to get answers on this subject."

"I have sent off a letter to the ambassador of the Griffon Empire," Celestia said. "We shall wait for their response, and secretly prepare in the meantime." She looked to Shining. "Draft up the call to arms letters for the militias, but do not mail them until we give the word."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Shining saluted before leaving the room.

"So it's the waiting game now, huh?" Talbot said, shaking his head. "Usually the Ghosts would get sent in on a preemptive strike, but we usually do those with solid knowledge of enemy plans, not projecting and planning on a single letter like this..."

"It's the best we can do now, Captain," Harvey said. "We can't risk setting off a war if we can help it."

"All fun and games until somebody gets killed..." Talbot muttered. "Let's not all forget that we already have blood spilled here."

"I'm sorry, Captain. I know you are a man of action, but we must practice tact at the moment."

"Understood, Your Majesty." He stood up and saluted. "I'll continue our preparations. Let's hope your ambassador responds soon." His boots thumped against the floor as he left the room. Any preparations they could do were imperative. Nobody and nopony knew when the griffons were going to strike.




"How's this?" Harvey said, pulling off the goggles he wore at the forge. "I've made the modifications as you asked. Let's see how well it performs." He handed the arrow to Raymond.

"Nice. Heavy... and good equilibrium." He pulled the arrow into his bow and brought it to firing position, letting the string loose as it hit the target dummy with a satisfying clunk. "Very nice. At least fifty percent factor penetration against unarmored targets. These new arrows will definitely drop a griffon in a few shots or less." He retrieved the arrow, and equipped the dummy with plate armor.

"Oh? A new test?" Harvey asked.

"Yeah. Armor-piercing. If the griffons wear armor like the guards do, then I have to be able to deal with that, as well. The quartermaster told me that the crossbow bolts are already built to function like that, so there's no worry for the rest of my squad." He walked back a few paces to his previous firing position before sending the arrow back at the target's chest. It broke through the armor with a ping and embedded itself in the chest.

"Well... I guess that works..." Harvey commented, looking confusedly back at the neat row of arrows he had laying on his table. Did he perhaps go overboard triple-lining the arrowheads with refined and folded steel?

"Very impressive, doc," Raymond said, looking at the arrow jutting out of the armor. "Good damage on entry, at least thirty-five percent penetration factor at medium-long range. So long as it's a direct hit and doesn't glance off their armor, a shot with these new arrows should produce good results."

"I, uh... hadn't expected it to be so... effective..."

"Don't flatter yourself, doc," Raymond noted. "Their armor's just not as well-built as ours. This here's royal guard armor plating, an old model, but still remotely par to standards from what the quartermaster told me. As far as things are concerned, it's just a giant metal plate that needs a lot of direct force to break through."

"I thought it wouldn't be particularly effective at all against plate armor, actually..."

"You're right. I just wanted to test, just in case. Exposed areas are still king for this game, but it would seem that the species on this world build their armor for speed, not protection. That means that they leave a good number of their body parts exposed and build their armor to only protect from light ranged attacks. Anything else would just weigh them down too much."

"Well, if that's all, we should most likely rejoin our friends." Harvey looked out the window as he saw the moon slowly coming up the horizon. "I assume dinner should be served quite soon."




The griffon had been woken up from his nap by the sound of a pony running through the woods. He carefully moved from tree to tree as he noticed a pink pony confusedly walking the woods, muttering something about a 'pinkie sense' and a 'new guest in town'. He paid it no mind, however, but quickly continued on his progress before finding the entrance to the cave network at the base of the mountain.

Bringing along a light-sphere from home, he navigated the tunnels in his small circle of light, carefully following the map and stopping for rest every now and then. It was eerily quiet within the caverns since he was avoiding all the royal guard tunnels and caves, and he found it maddening that he couldn't keep track of the time. Before long, however, he'd made it all the way near the top, and exited the cave behind a wall of trees and bushes, right outside the city of Canterlot.

Forget getting into the castle, he had to get into the city first. And there was a rather substantial problem with that: there were guards at the gates, as well as those manning the watchtowers. He couldn't sneak in by the road or fly above the walls. And unfortunately, he didn't have something that his father cooked up this time around... This would require some creativity. Scanning the edge of the castle, he noticed a small river flowing nearby with a small grate next to it, leading into the city.

He balked at the notion of having to swim through a tunnel just to get into a city, but it had to be done. He simply could not be found by the guards. So with another gulp, he began for the grating. The bars were narrow, but he was young, and he could squeeze himself in with a little... well, a lot of effort. He was actually lucky that it didn't tear off his travel bags while he attempted to pass through.

He carefully chose his exit and found himself crawling out of a sewer hole in some random alley in the expansive city. Quietly sliding the cover closed with as little noise as possible, he looked to his map of his plans to sneak into the castle. It was thankfully on cloth, emblazoned in with fire and ash so it wouldn't fade if it happened to end up in water. His father was always organized like that, planning for eventualities like this.

He carefully looked around the outside of the alley, devoid of ponies, before making his way to the western wall. It was the one closest to Celestia's tower, and his point of entry. He just hoped that there weren't any ponies around to spot him, or any guard who deviated from their patrol route that night...




Sky Watch wasn't particularly amused at being stuck with guard duty that night as he patrolled the gardens in the castle's western courtyard. In fact, following the death of his former guardmates, he'd been particularly unstable and somewhat sad, despite Captain Shining's initial attempts to cheer him up. If those griffons were really trying to do something that put Equestria and the Princesses at risk, he'd cut them down without a single thought. He could feel his blood boil as the rage coursed through his body, his face torn with anger.

He sat below a tree, completely ignoring his patrol. He just wanted to go fight the damn griffons. Being stuck here made him care for... well, nothing, aside from guarding the Princesses. He wanted to avenge his comrades, his brothers-in-arms, and if that letter was anything to go by, the griffons were up to no good. He also had the dying urge to just spit out what he had found to the other guards, since not even the Night Guard with Princess Luna were even aware about this.

Stuck in thought, he was brought out of his stupor as he saw a small figure daintily float above the walls and drift into the castle grounds, before it flew underneath the southwest guard tower's balcony, avoiding the gaze of the unicorn guard that sat on top. Watch couldn't believe what he was seeing, and angrily pulled out his crossbow.

He recognized the profile of the being. It was one that he drilled into his head after the mission had long since been over.

It was a griffon. 

And it was sneaking into the castle grounds... and it was trying to fly towards Princess Celestia's tower! Undoubtedly to launch an assassination against her! He had to act! Warn Captain Shining and the other guards! Arming his crossbow with a click, he began to run for the castle entrances, shouting at the guards that an intruder was just spotted.

This wasn't going to happen on his watch. This sucker was going to pay.




The Ghosts were enjoying their dinner in their quarters when the door slammed open.

"Quickly! A griffon's been spotted near the Princess's chambers!" the royal guard shouted. The Ghosts scrambled to their feet, ignoring their armor as they ran for their MR8s, Raymond slapping on a quiver and throwing his bow over his shoulder. They quickly walked out to the clamor shouts and running guards as they saw dozens of pegasi swarming the skies while the unicorns were marching across the castle grounds, their horns armed with energy.

"This way!" a guard shouted at them, pointing down the halls as a bunch of unicorns ran past him.

"What the hell's going on?" Harvey asked, standing at the entrance of the quarters.

"Stay here, doc, there's trouble around!" Pastor shouted, before looking at the waiting Ghosts. "Anvil, get a move on! To the tower!" The other three ran off as Pastor took his left hand off his rifle and put it on the doc's shoulder. "Stay here, doc, we can't risk you getting hurt."

"But I--"

"No exceptions, sir." Pastor closed the door and turned to see Shining in battle armor, running down the hall. "Sir!"

"Ah, Lieutenant Pastor. Sorry, we haven't met before, but your Captain spoke of you. Let's not keep everypony else waiting," he said, as they ran together towards the western side of the castle.

"What's going on?" Pastor shouted.

"An intruder! I was told that it was a griffon!" Shining shouted back.

"A griffon?! Are they trying something already?"

"We don't know for certain!" They rounded a corner and out an entranceway to see a huge group of pegasi swarming the skies above Celestia's tower. "All I know was that the alert was called in and the guards scrambled from the barracks!"

"What if this is a diversion? What if they're after Princess Luna?"

"Not possible!" Shining said. "Both of them were in Celestia's tower together tonight. All the guards are notified whenever they'll be somewhere, and they let me know beforehoof, so I'm pretty sure both of them are up there!"

They ran through the courtyard as the royal guards were taking up defensive positions outside the tower. Several of them made chokepoints up the stairs as Shining and Pastor made their way up.

"That's some quick work you guys do..." Pastor said.

"The training has to come in some use, right?" Shining laughed. "Captain of the Royal Guard coming through! Make way!" They climbed the circular stairway as some of the pegasi broke into formations and began to quickly survey the rest of the castle grounds, making sure there weren't any other intruders. They found the rest of the Ghosts standing at the top of the stairs, the closed doors barred by the spears of two unicorn guards.

"Come on, we have to make sure she's safe," Mendoza said.

"No can do. You're armed."

"Well, we're part of the royal guards, aren't we?" Talbot asked.

"I didn't get that memo yet, nor did I see you three have an initiation ceremony."

"Aw, come on, you have to--" Mendoza began, before they heard the sound of Shining coming up the steps.

"They're with me. Let us in," Shining said. "And they are officially part of the Royal Guards, and I won't be explaining it again. Understand, sergeant?"

"Understood, sir," the left unicorn said, as the two guards drew away their spears. "You're free to enter."

"Thank you," Shining said, before they entered the chambers.




The sight inside was something to behold. Directly in front of Princess Celestia's balcony window stood a griffon in tattered clothes, against the wall, and claws held up in the air. In front of him was an angry Sky Watch, pointing his crossbow directly at him. And behind Watch stood the Princesses, watching the scene with cool attentiveness.

Shining and the Ghosts quickly fanned into the room and spotted the target, immediately drawing the sights of their weapons, and Shining's magic, directly at the creature up against the wall.

"Permission to terminate, Your Majesty," Watch said.

"Permission denied, Lieutenant," Luna said. "Stand down immediately."

Watch continued to hold his gaze and weapon for a moment, until he wordlessly followed the order. He put away his crossbow, but his focus never left the griffon, and neither did his scowl. He slowly backed off to the corner of the room, but his magic was still active, ready to draw and fire his weapon if necessary. The order didn't apply to the Ghosts nor Shining, however, and their aim was still focused on the frightened young griffon.

"Now, then..." Celestia said, looking at the griffon. "Explain why you are here."
> Drums of War
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Well? Speak, young one," Celestia repeated.

The griffon steadily righted himself, trying to stand proudly, but horribly failing. His fear was plainly obvious: his legs were shaking and his eyes were darting all over the room, trying to keep track between the soldiers and the Princesses that stood before him.

"M-my name is Snowfeather. I--I am... a scribe of the Grif--Griffon Empire... and I have come to deliver a m-message on behalf of Ambassador Quillfeather... m-my father..."

Celestia's eyes widened at the mention of Quillfeather. "Yes? Speak, young one. Has something happened within the Empire?"

"I... I'm afraid I don't know, Your... Your Majesty. My father spoke to me one day, and had me prepare for a long journey out of the kingdom without using transportation. He said that it was extremely important that I deliver a letter to you... and that I should not be seen by anyone, griffon or pony."

"Really? May I see this letter?" Snowfeather nodded, and pulled out a plain white letter sealed with the insignia of the office of the Griffon Empire. He stepped forward once, but glanced at the soldiers before returning a worrying gaze to Celestia.

She sighed. "Very well. Please, Captains, and Ghosts, holster your weapons."

"Understood, Your Majesty," Shining said, his horn's energy dissipating.

Talbot and the Ghosts also followed the order, but he maintained a hand on his pistol grip. They watched as Celestia floated the letter away from Snowfeather's grip, opening it and reading the contents out loud.

(===)

Dearest Princesses,

I fear that my time is approaching rapidly. You must prepare your ponies for war, it's the only recourse that they have left. There has been a coup within our ranks. General Strongbeak has accused Emperor Arcus of being weak, too soft-willed, and through means completely unimaginable to me, imprisoned him within Iron Mountain. The griffon capital city of Tesseraka is no longer safe, and I have arranged for your embassy staff here to be escorted out in secret. They will return home within the week.

On the matter of the coup: many of the council have been accused of idle treason by Strongbeak. He's ordered us all to be round up and... executed. As chief advisor for Arcus, I am sending you as much information as you can use in order to best fight back against our army. We are strong, well-trained, and number in the several tens of thousands. Strongbeak is the general of all the Griffon Empire's militaries, and if he should so wish to go to war, after our elimination, there will be nothing to stop him.

By the time you receive this letter, I am most likely dead. Enclosed with my son's belongings are a number of files containing details on Strongbeak and the generals who initiated the coup with him that I gathered before I had to flee from the palace. They are the ones who need to be taken down... for what good it might do you. They all lead their own armies, specific branches within the military, as generals with specialized roles. If you somehow manage to defeat or kill them, then the public opinion of the war will shift drastically. That's not withstanding that the public opinion of the war was already negative to begin with, but Strongbeak has exercised his power and declared martial law. Dissent is put down with lethal force.

There are those who would still help, however. We have a number of griffons loyal to the crown in various rural towns near the borders, willing to rise against Strongbeak's oppressive rule, and many stay within the cities to monitor and maintain watch over the military's movements. Should you decide to try directly for the generals, the rural town of Ardmis is a good place to start. It resides very close to Equestrian borders, and Snowfeather will know the leader of the loyalists who resides there... it's his uncle.

Arcus's family is currently at risk. I admit that I do not know of their current whereabouts, but I do recall arranging for transport for them to escape the country to avoid being leveraged as a resource against Arcus. They will be traveling to Equestria in a single guarded carriage, and they will bear the seal of the Ambassadorial Office with them. That will be your key to knowing who they are. The guards have explicit orders to return to loyalist hideouts once their escort is complete, so you do not have to fear letting griffon soldiers into your borders.

Beware of any new ambassador that the generals put into office. They will most likely try to assure you that everything is fine, and try to deny any sort of secretive operations that they will most undoubtedly do in Equestria. Do not reveal any of your knowledge: you must show your ignorance and be cautious. It will be the only way to buy you time as you prepare. I know from the immigration rates that there are almost little to no griffons within your borders, but you must be careful for spies regardless. They will hide in the shadows and watch you from afar.

Finally, there is something that I must warn you about: we have these new objects, powerful things that explode and spit fire, raining hell from the skies. It's something that Strongbeak has only brought out only recently, though how he created or learned of this strange new weaponry is beyond me. It is dangerous, and it allow him to rain down fire upon his enemies from afar, without risk of putting his troop at harm. I have stolen some plans for this strange new weapon. Please study it thoroughly.

War is imminent, Your Majesty, and I fear that many lives on both sides will be lost. The generals want to restore the Griffon Empire to the glory days when they conquered most of the unclaimed lands and held an army that shook fear into every nation, and they will not resort to parleying in order to do so.

In the words of my ancestors: strength and honor be with you.

And to Snowfeather, who will most undoubtedly learn of this letter: be strong. Your parents are proud of you.

Quillfeather

(===)

Celestia raised her gaze from the letter to look at a distraught Snowfeather.

"Father... dead...?" he said, stumbling backwards and sitting down. "He didn't tell me anything about this... how could he have been..." He stopped as he lowered his head, simply staring at the ground.

"Captain Shining..." Celestia said. "...could you please help our friend here to his own quarters? I believe he needs some time alone." She deftly removed the travel bags from Snowfeather, leaving them next to the wall as Shining saluted her.

"Of course, Princess." Shining carefully helped the griffon to his feet, before slowly leading him back outside. Watch, however, was less than enthused, his scowl merely turning into a frown following the letter. He watched the two leave with mild interest, before remaining at attention.

"Wait... weapons that 'explode and spit fire'?" Mendoza said. "That can't be good... and if what I think is correct..."

"Yes," Luna said. "It is remarkably similar to how Doctor Harvey described human weaponry."

"I don't know whether to be happy or shocked. I mean, if it's true, then that means they have gunpowder... but on the other hand, it means that they have gunpowder... good for me, bad for us." Mendoza nervously played around with a few bits on his MR8.

"Let's see those plans, Your Majesty," Talbot said. Celestia opened the travel bags and pulled out several thick scrolls as they began to converge around a table. She unrolled it and lay it flat before all to see. The plans appeared to detail some sort of large metal cylinder attached to wheels.

"That's... that's a cannon," Mendoza said. "Judging by the designs, it looks like something from the Civil War... but I don't think I need to hold a history lesson to tell you that these things are absolutely dangerous. How the hell did griffons get their hands on gunpowder?"

"I suppose we'll find out about that soon enough. Someone's going to have to go in and put one through these bastards' heads, and I'm pretty sure it'll be us," Pastor said. "And look there, at the corner. Some designs for a vehicle?"

Luna read it over. "Battle wagon... pushed by manual labor. It's a device that they intend to use to storm our lines. The cannons are supposed to cover the advance of the wagons, and they push through our lines without taking so much as a hit. Rather ingenious, but I am worried as to how we will fight them."

"Judging by the plans here..." Raymond said, pointing at a picture of several thick metal plates with arrows pointing at the wagon. "...they intend to make the wagons as heavily armored as possible. That makes any standard infantry attack against it pointless."

"We could do with some Razorback support right about now, I'll say that much," Mendoza said. "Aside from my rockets and explosives, I don't think our pony friends here have much in the way of fighting against them."

"Not entirely correct, Corporal," Celestia said. "We do have heavy ballistae that can have magic infused into their bolts to ensure an explosion on contact. I believe that they will be our best hope against this strange new contraption, but they do take a considerable amount of time to set up."

"I'd assume that they intend to bring these things out when you least expect them, especially when you don't have the ballistae out," Talbot said. "If you aren't prepared, they can easily break through your lines without taking much damage."

"But now that we know of them, we can prepare in advance. Quillfeather was wise in bringing this to our attention," Celestia noted. "How should we deal with the cannons?"

"Flank them," Talbot said. "Such devices are usually kept behind the front lines and fired at a distance. Most of their main troops will be engaging your forces, so I'd say it's best to use a group of your pegasus soldiers to initiate a flanking attack, blindsiding the cannons and eliminating the soldiers manning them."

"You do realize that the griffons have air cavalry like we do," Luna said.

"Well, that'll be a problem, then..." Talbot put his MR8 on safety, placing it on the desk, before picking up the scroll for a closer look. "It's a shame that we didn't get any better details on the wagons. We don't know the armor caliber on them, so maybe even using our rockets might not do much."

"Please, sir," Mendoza responded. "Those babies are specifically designed to lock on and fire at any weak points. I don't think a giant welded tin can is going to do much against them. And if that doesn't work, some good old C4 will do the job just fine..."

"So you did sneak them in!" Pastor said.

"Hey, the boss said it was fine! And I thought we would have to blow some doors up or something, okay? You can never be too sure, and they gave us the whole arsenal to take! It's like getting access to the candy store and the only thing you take is a single bar of chocolate."

"Shut your damn traps, you idiots," Raymond said. "Can't you see we're in the middle of a session here?"

"Oh, right, right," Mendoza said. "So what's the attack plan against those cannons? I wonder if the unicorns can make some magical artillery doohickey with those horns of theirs."

"That might be possible, if a bit tricky to pull off," Celestia said. "I will have to speak to my Captains later, and discuss whether this is actually possible. Otherwise, I fear that the cannons may be too well-protected to do anything substantial against them."

Mendoza's face furrowed in thought. "Well, they told me that you can do fireworks with them, right? Why not just make a really big firework, so to speak, that fires towards one direction and make a really big explosion when it lands?"

"Yes, that could be manageable. The unicorns of the old days used to be capable of lifting the celestial bodies until my sister and I took the task upon ourselves," Luna said. "Perhaps directing a magical charge towards the enemy isn't out of our hooves, after all. But, that discussion will be held among the Captains at a later time. For now, let us continue."

"Right. Now about the files on the generals..." Talbot said. Celestia floated out several large envelopes, and pulled out the papers. "Well... how many..." Talbot flipped through the pages. "There are seven. Seven generals. This is going to be interesting."

"Would like to take a further look at these, Captain?" Celestia asked. "I must admit that I am not entirely up to date on matters of wartime intelligence. Perhaps you could glean more information off of these pages than I can."

"That would be appreciated," Talbot said, looking at the picture of General Strongbeak on the top page. "I'll have you all convene tomorrow, and I can explain the details of the generals then. Be sure to bring all the officers, they're going to need to know about this."

"Uh, I don't think all the guards know about us yet, boss," Mendoza said.

"Oh, don't worry," Watch said, his sour mood having cleared up. "Pretty much every single guard in the castle knows about you guys now. They also know that one of you ran down nearly half a company's worth of armored diamond dogs as well as a griffon. You won't find many complaints from us."

"Very well, then," Talbot said. "Anvil, return to your quarters. I'll stay here for the time being. These documents are to remain with the Princesses at all times, no exceptions." The rest of the Ghosts nodded, leaving their Captain to continue his analysis.

"We cannot be present at all times, Captain," Celestia said. "But either I or my sister shall remain here at any given time to aid you, should you need our help."

"Thank you both, Your Majesties. And of Sky Watch?" Talbot said, looking at the waiting royal guard.

Celestia drew her attention to him. "Your guard is not needed here, Sky Watch, but it is appreciated. We commend you for your foresight in apprehending a possible intruder. You may leave now." Watch saluted, and walked out the door as Luna exited along with him. From what Talbot could see, the guards present outside the quarters were still there, as were a few pegasi guards still doing last-minute sweeps of the castle grounds.

"For the time being, I will be available to aid you, Captain," Celestia said. "My sister must see to the rising of the moon now, and attend her Night Court."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing unicorns raise the sun and moon..."




"First order of business: Griffon General Strongbeak," Talbot said, looking out at the assembly hall half-filled with royal guard officers, as well as the Princesses, the Ghosts, and Doctor Harvey. "He's the one who led the coup. According to information gleaned from documents provided to us, he's had this business under wraps for a very long time, and only recently has he come to initiate it."

One of the officers raised his hoof. "If he's the one at the head, why don't we just simply take him out and end the war?"

Talbot shook his head. "It can't be done. The documents state that the other six generals are all in on this, as well. Taking out one won't do well to fend off the war since it's a consolidated effort. We have to take them all out in order for this to work, otherwise another one will just pick up where the others left off."

"Do we have a plan for dealing with them?"

"Not at the moment. But the greater possibility of being able to gain public support for Equestria in the Empire if we happen to take out key figureheads from the coup is just too great to ignore. The people of the Empire are oppressed by General Strongbeak, and they won't dare try fighting back so long as the military and martial law is in place. If we can pull it off, we can prevent further deaths on both sides."

"Well, if you need a pony for that one, you know who to call," the officer said sitting down. There were some laughs shared throughout the hall.

Talbot smiled as he looked across the benches. "Any other questions? Alright, then, on to the second general: General Gravelclaw, the griffon of ground cavalry. The files say that his griffons specialize in using these new contraptions, called battle wagons, to advance across the battlefield, assisting the infantry in closing the distance to engage in close combat. The wagons are essentially a large covered wagon with plates mounted on to it, making any conventional attacks against their users pointless."

"Do we have something to stop them?" asked another officer.

"We do," Talbot said. "The Princesses has suggested that we use heavy ballistae, deployed in advance of the battle, to destroy them. Conventionally, the bolts might just only be able to pierce the armor, but not much else, so the initial suggestion is to infuse the bolts with magic, and once they come into contact with the wagons, the resulting explosion would be enough to get rid of them."

There was a murmur of conversation as officers discussed the new method of combat, as well as dealing with a new type of warfare they'd never dealt with before. Talbot could pick up traces of concern dealing with magically-infused weaponry.

"Now..." he continued. "...to the third general: General Castshot." He pointed to several of the drawn cannon designs on the chalkboard. "He uses cannons, a new type that can fire an explosive projectile over extremely long distances. The best we could glean off of the information provided shows that the cannons are slow to move and take time to set up, but can be devastating against infantry or any other ground force. Our assumptions are that they will be used to cover the advance of the battle wagons, under their assumption that we won't be prepared for them."

"Do we have anything in place to deal with those?" the same officer asked.

"Any pegasus guards willing to fight through a line of griffon air cavalry to deal with them?" Talbot responded. No hooves were raised as the officers realized that they didn't really have much to use against the cannons. "No? Well, we've come up for another solution for that. This one was proposed by one of my own, who noticed that you all happened to use a basic, but harmless, explosive magic for fireworks. The solution, is to create a potent magic projectile, which is pushed through the air in an arc, before it lands on its target and explodes. Our solution to their cannons, essentially, is to use our own long-distance projectiles to fight against them."

"Sounds good to me! Magic can outperform anything those damned griffons can fire at us!" shouted a unicorn officer in the back. "Where do we sign up?" he ended, earning a laugh from the crowd of officers.

"Perhaps tomorrow!" Talbot shouted to the back. "It's going to take training to hurl a giant ball of magic through the sky, after all!"

"And I'll be looking forward to it!" the unicorn shouted.

"Right, then!" Talbot said, waving his hands to get the attention of the talking crowd. "On to the fourth general: General Red Talon. I expect a lot of you to be cursing his name after this is all said and done, because he's the general of the infantry. He's the one that sends all the soldiers into battle on the front lines, and from what the files say, he's been pushing all his griffons into training overtime to make them lean and tough."

"No match for royal guard training, or an earth pony's buck!" said a pegasus officer at the front row. "We'll meet them head on with our army and kick their flanks!"

"That may be, but you also forget that the griffons hold the advantage in numbers. It's going to take more than just good training and a hard kick to fight them off."

"Then train harder, we will! We'll not let the griffons outshine us when it comes to combat!" said another officer, another pegasus.

"Good to see that you're all willing and ready to protect Equestria," Talbot joked. "But the next few might present some problems. The fifth general's the one that the pegasi are going to be cursing: General Highcloud, in charge of the griffon air cavalry. Unlike the ground infantry, the air cavalry are more lightly armored, and will be well-trained in aerial combat. The files detail a number of their flight formation and combat tactics. We can put those to good use against them."

"We'll kick their flanks in the air, too!" shouted another officer.

"Yeah! We'll show those griffons what for!" The hall erupted into yet another round of cheers and agreements, growing ever more louder as Talbot merely put his hands on the sides of his hips and rolled his eyes.

"Hey, shut it!" Mendoza shouted, standing and turning around, the eyes of the ponies in the room upon him. "In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of in the middle of a really important meeting here? This stuff's kind of important, 'kay? Probably a good idea to listen up!" Looking around again and receiving no answers, he nodded and sat back down. "Feel free to continue, boss."

"Right. On to the sixth, and something you ponies may not be familiar with: General Quickwing, of the Griffon Navy. Apparently, they have some pretty expensive and powerful airships that they intend to use for quick hit-and-run operations within Equestrian lands. They only number around three, but the files say that it'll be several months into the war before they'll be able to deploy. We'll just have to hope everything solves itself by then."

"Is there any way of fighting back against these airships, Captain?" Luna asked.

"You could use retrofit the magic artillery to fire into the skies instead of the ground and have the projectiles explode mid-air to catch them with a hit, but the design plans for the airships show that they're quite maneuverable, on top of being mounted with at least a dozen of the cannons mentioned earlier. The purported information also says that they're to deploy with several wings of griffon air cavalry. If they reach the borders, it could be disastrous."

"Then perhaps we should be glad that they will not be deploying at the beginning of the war," Celestia said. "This will give us an ample amount of time to develop proper countermeasures against them."

"Agreed," Talbot said. "And the last order of business on the list: General Gale Whisper. He's the military intelligence chief, and he has eyes and ears everywhere. Among other things, he's distrustful of his subordinates, hates being out in the open, and likes using doubles to pull public face for him. Well, that's going to be a real pain."

"So, what?" Mendoza said, shrugging in the front row. "He just stays in his little hidey-hole all the time?"

Talbot nodded. "And has other griffons that may or may not be him running the show in his place. He doesn't have an army, but everything points to him being the most hardest to deal with. On top of that, we most likely won't be able to act on the other generals until he's out of the question. He's said to be shrewd and extremely clever. He'll most likely anticipate our moves if we try anything else."

"And what of the Emperor? What course of action should we take to help him?" Luna asked.

"That's thinking ahead, Princess, and unfortunately, I haven't actually thought about that yet. So long as the threat of the generals still hangs, I'm afraid trying to rescue him is far too dangerous... Iron Mountain, as the ambassador called it, is General Strongbeak's own fortress, and he has his own personal guard manning the walls. It's just too risky."

She nodded. "I understand. Is that all that the ambassador had sent with his son?"

"I'm afraid so. So until this damn war begins, it's best to start preparations. This meeting is over. You're all dismissed." The officers stood and began to exit along the center pathway, discussing the future training implications and the upcoming fight against the griffons. He watched as the last of the officers passed through the doors. "Well, that's a lot of officers. I didn't expect the royal guard to have so many."

"There are many more in Stalliongrad, Captain," Celestia laughed. "You are fortunate that this was only Canterlot's share of the royal guard. The rest of the commanding officers, however, will be briefed when they arrive here to move on to the front lines when our mobilization begins."

"I see. And if you would now, since everyone's gone..." Talbot looked around the empty assembly hall. "...I believe we have the matter of plans to discuss."

"Of course. We should move to Celestia's chambers immediately," Luna said.




"You are suggesting that you send the Ghosts in to... assassinate the generals?" Luna said. "But would it not be better to have your squad here to help train our guards? Why risk putting yourself in danger by attempting something that may not even succeed?"

"Trust me when I say that we can definitely pull this off," Talbot said. "Like I explained a while back, all you need to do is hold them off. We can handle the rest. We have sufficient training for operating deep in enemy territory without backup, and none of your royal guards are well-equipped enough to tackle this mission, even as a group. We're the best chance at stopping this war from turning into a long and bloody conflict. Give us this chance. We do owe you, after all."

"Just how much thought have you given this?" She turned his head, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Enough that I already know, Luna," Celestia said. "I trust your judgment, Captain. Should you so wish to go through with this, then perhaps it would be wise to initiate contact with the loyalist forces. They will most certainly be helpful in aiding you with transportation."

"Maybe Snowfeather can assist us. He obviously knows more than us about the Empire, and his uncle is the leader of the loyalist movement. Perhaps we can have him put us in contact with him."

"Hmm, a good idea. Have you taken a further look at the town of Ardmis?" Celestia had remembered the city being mentioned in Quillfeather's letter, though she had to admit that she wasn't entirely informed on the locations and magnitudes of griffon cities.

"I have. It's located just west of the southern pass at the Equestrian border. It's a little bit out of the way, though. There doesn't seem to be any major trade routes that lead there, though I believe that may work in our favor."

"I see... since it is a small settlement, it can easily elude the gaze of the military and work towards the favor of your Ghosts."

"It will. As sophisticated as our camouflage technology is, it's not exactly complete invisibility. In plain daylight, our forms are still visible at close range and our shadows are still present. It would work out much better if the loyalists can sneak us between cities and provide us with places to hide in during the day. We can take the opportunity to operate during the night and strike from the shadows."

"I can understand why using ponies would work against this operation. I must admit, Captain, not even our own guards have as much thorough training as you and your Ghosts do," Luna said.

"Taxpayer dollars at work," Mendoza laughed.

"The finalization for the plans will be held later today or tomorrow. I'll have to speak to Snowfeather about getting us into contact with the loyalists," Talbot said. "Their decision to help may have a greater effect on our operation than previously thought, since I'm not sure how well we can operate without safe havens within cities. The griffons would most likely find us sooner or later, and I'd rather avoid that risk. Hopefully Snowfeather will understand."

"I am sure he will," Celestia said. "If he has as much dedication to the crown as his father did, then he will not turn down a chance to aid in freeing his nation from the claws of the generals."




Snowfeather had been taken to the infirmary, and then treated before being brought to his own quarters. There were guards standing outside, though; Celestia had stated that while his assistance was appreciated, she could not entirely trust the griffon to his own affairs. He was to be monitored at all times, and Snowfeather had even consented. The Ghosts parted with the Princesses and brought the plans to contact the loyalists to him.

"Is that what you ask of me?" Snowfeather said, sitting on a few cushions. His minor wounds had been treated, and he wore several bandages wrapped around his torso. "If my father says the movement leader is my uncle, then it is for sure Scarclaw. He was the former General of the Bastion within Iron Mountain, prior to retiring and having Strongbeak succeed him. Our family has strong ties to the crown, and we have been close friends for generations."

"Do you think he'll agree to help us?" Talbot asked.

"Perhaps, though I am sure many of the loyalists will be intrigued at the sight of strange new creatures willing to aid the Equestrians."

"Let's just say we owe them big time," Raymond said, folding his arms.

"I understand. My father had always told me in my youth to be faithful to the emperor and the crown. I suppose these trying times are when our allegiances are truly put to the test. Prior to my departure from Tesseraka, there were... riots. Uprisings, by the populace. When I flew away from my home in the cover of night, the light from the burning buildings and the sound of fighting could be heard from miles around. I can only imagine what other manner of control Strongbeak has exercised in the other cities."

"But can we rest assured that your uncle will help us?" Talbot asked.

Snowfeather nodded. "He will. He'll also be very happy to know that I'm safe. He won't relinquish a chance to put Strongbeak in his place. Uncle was never a patient man when it came to matters of... treason."

"You say he's a general?" Pastor asked. "And the one who came before Strongbeak, no less. How much of an influence did he have prior to leaving the military?"

"Enough that I heard that he convinced nearly a quarter of the military to throw down their imperial sigils in protest when the coup was made public, and then they all disappeared for parts unknown. I assume many of them are in hiding now, planning to take down Strongbeak through their own means."

Pastor turned his head questioningly. "A quarter? Just how many griffons do you think that is?"

"Roughly at least seven to ten thousand, easily. My uncle was an honorable and inspiring leader. Many of the griffons in the service now served under his command for years. It is griffon military tradition to always trust your commanding officers, at least those that earn your respect, and my uncle was practically the spitting image of loyalty."

"That's pretty impressive," Mendoza said. "Maybe there's a chance we can convince the loyalists to fight alongside the ponies? I can imagine the odds being evened out if ten thousand griffons fought alongside them."

"They won't fight with the Equestrians," Snowfeather disagreed. "Treason is tantamount to civil war in griffon tradition. We do not take transgressions from our own kind very lightly. We view the Equestrians' fight as the ponies', and our own fight as belonging only to us. They won't agree to help, at least not in substantial numbers, and even then, that only applies to those that actually want to help."

"So we can't count on the deserters to help, but will you help us?" Talbot said.

Snowfeather looked to the ground, contemplating the decision, before looking at him and nodding. "Yes. I will help you. As much as I am not a fighter, I still have griffon tradition bred strongly into me. My father's death at the hands of the dishonorable Strongbeak demands vengeance, and while I cannot achieve that myself... I can send you to exact it for me. I will go with you to Ardmis."

Talbot nodded. "Good. Now let's talk about transportation..." The rest of the day was spent deep in planning, and eventual lessons by Snowfeather on tradition and military affairs, as well as the cities that each of the generals resided in. The operation began to come into clear focus as the initial objectives were laid out by the Ghosts, and they decided to hold a top-secret meeting the next day to inform the Princesses before they continued their training for at least two weeks, training with the crossbows before entering griffon lands.

In due time, the Griffon Empire would be the new haunting grounds for the Ghosts.
> Game Plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Ghosts, listen up." Talbot stood, fully armed and armored, in front of several chalkboards, detailing griffon territory and their order of travel and targets. "First things first: equipment. We all have our rifles, Fuse has his rockets and explosives, and Raymond has his sniper rifle. Bullet casings are not required to be reclaimed, but we are on discreet rules of engagement. Do not fire unless fired upon. Exceptions to the order will be given by me if needed."

"Don't think we'd want to shoot anyway," Raymond said. "We don't even have suppressors for the MR8s."

"Actually..." Pastor said, pulling out a small rectangular black box. He opened it, revealing four suppressors, models made specifically for the MR8s. "We have these." The clank of armor could be heard throughout their quarters as Harvey, Snowfeather, and the Ghosts leaned in to look at the box.

"Where the hell did you get those?" Mendoza asked.

Pastor shrugged. "I asked around a bit, talked with the General, and he pulled a few favors with some folks in the DoD on a moment's notice. I just thought it was really weird that they never made suppressors for these guns, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. These are specially-made suppressors, courtesy of the Advanced Armament Corporation. You know, the same guys who build the Titan suppressors for sniper rifles?"

"Very nice," Mendoza said, grabbing one and twirling it around his fingers. He locked it on to the MR8 with ease. "Fits like a glove."

"Have these things been tested?" Raymond asked, examining the matte black object.

"Only basic testing, nothing intensive since they were short on time when Noriega requested it. They did lift some designs off of previous suppressors before, so it's not like these things are going to crap out on us in the field." Raymond nodded before locking the suppressor on his MR8.

"Now we can maintain stealth even at long distance. I know these MR8s aren't exactly designed for extreme distance combat, but at least now we can afford to engage in one if the need arises," Talbot said. "Fuse, what about your explosives?"

"Just three blocks of C4. I figured we'd need it to blast open some crazy gigantic vault door that Maynard would have in his villa, but I guess he sort of opened it for us."

"Good. Keep them on hand, we might need to use them eventually... specifically, Quickwing and his naval ships. One good block of C4 on each of their engine blocks should to send them crashing to the ground."

"Roger that, boss, saving the good stuff for the big things that fall the hardest."

"So, order of targets?" Raymond asked.

Talbot nodded, before pointing at the board. "In order, the generals will be: Gale Whisper, Highcloud, Castshot, Red Talon, Gravelclaw, Quickwing, and then Strongbeak himself."

"Any intelligence on the cities?"

Talbot shook his head. "Nothing aside from names. The ambassador unfortunately didn't give us any further information for the cities, nor the locations of the generals. The loyalists will have to fill us in on that."

Snowfeather, who sat beside the Ghosts, spoke up. "My uncle will be able to provide you all with any information that you need, as well as help you gain entry into most of the cities. The only problem, I believe, will be with Red Talon. He doesn't live in a city, but his own garrisoned fortress: Fortress Helmguard. It sits straight in the center of the Empire."

"For immediate deployment to any of their borders if they get attacked. Good foresight on their part," Talbot agreed. "But it makes it harder for us to get in. If it's a fortress, then we can't just expect to hitch a ride on a trade caravan and be able to get through their gates. We'll have to sneak in the hard way."

"Man, it's a good thing we still have those grappling hooks from Fortaleza, right?" Mendoza laughed.

"I don't think we're supposed to use those things to scale fortress walls..." Pastor said.

"There might be other ways," Talbot interrupted. "For now, we'll just deal with the generals as they come."

"What about resupply, sir? Our bullets won't stick around forever if we get into a firefight," Raymond said.

"Glad you pointed that out, Scope. All equipment is to be reclaimed if possible. We can't pick up every brass casing every time we fire, so bullets can be ignored. In the case where we run out, we switch to our sidearms or the bow weapons. Sensor grenades and the recon drone have the highest priority for reclamation. They can be reused and will prove extremely useful in the field."

Harvey raised his hand. "Ah, may I examine one of those sensor grenades? I know they were designed for a single one-time activation when thrown, but with some tinkering around, I could rework the battery to jump-start itself and recharge for multiple uses."

"That may be useful." Talbot pulled one off of his armor tossed it to Harvey. "Each one of the Ghosts has five of those grenades, which means twenty combined. It'll last us for a while, but I'd rather be able to reuse the grenades than not."

"Er, these... grenades..." Snowfeather said. "What do they do?"

"Sensor grenades." Talbot tapped the side of his visor, where the blue light from the crosscom was barely visible. "It can detect everything within a certain range when it lands, and what it detects shows up for us. It also keeps track of whatever it marks even if it walks out of our sight."

"Sounds like something extremely handy to have," Snowfeather agreed. "All this military talk may go over my head, but the idea of knowing where your enemies are at all times isn't lost on me. You humans have some very interesting technologies."

"That we do. We can be quite ingenious in developing ways to kill people. Take that statement as you will."

"Yes..." Harvey said, adjusting his glasses and rotating the grenade, examining the casing. "...I think I might be able to do something with this. But I'm going to need something to pry this open... I'll be sure to ask one of the guards later. I'll need to collect all of your grenades. You Ghosts won't be leaving any time soon, right?"

"Not until we have everything down. Don't want to walk in missing something important." Talbot pulled off his remaining sensor grenades and left them on the table for Harvey. The rest of the Ghosts did the same, as the table began to get crowded with the number of grenades that sat on it. "Just make sure you don't accidentally hit the button on top. That's how the grenade arms itself."

"Will do, Captain," Harvey laughed. "I think I'll be fine since these grenades don't explode."

"Yeah, sure, now... uh, boss, we're taking down Whisper first?" Mendoza asked. "I know you mentioned that he's the eyes and ears of the generals, so..."

"I'll expand on that," Talbot said. "Whisper is in charge of letting all the generals know what the hell's going on in the homefront and on the battlefield. But for the most part, he gathers intelligence and keeps the cities in check. If we enter and we don't take him down first, there's a good chance he'll be sending agents after us, and he'll most likely have suggestions to send the rest of the generals into hiding."

"So we take him down, then they won't be able to prepare for us," Mendoza said, tinkering with his helmet.

"Exactly. We kill him first, and they'll be running in the dark. They won't even have the vaguest idea who we are, nor will they know how to prepare for us. The files say that he absolutely hates his subordinates, and only uses them because he can't get things done himself. His intelligence network will most likely fall apart after his death."

"Any possibilities that we might have some loyalists working under him?" Raymond asked.

"If we're lucky, then yes. Having at least one person on the inside would go a long way to leveraging things in our favor. We can keep tabs on what's going on that way without having to expose ourselves by gathering intelligence. Practically every loyalist who stayed in the military will be identical to any other, background wise, so I don't think it'll be easy for him to try to keep tabs on every soldier he has."

"Right... and the rest?" Raymond hefted the M107 in his lap, the gun's firing mode set on safety. "I know we're not planning too far ahead just yet since we're kind of grasping at straws here, but general ideas for the others?"

"We go in, find them, take them down, then extract with the help of the loyalists, or by ourselves, if need be. Recommended method is that we use you, Scope, with your rifle, to tag them at extreme distance and then bug out before they find us."

Raymond smiled and nodded. "I like that. I guess the old M107's going to get some use, after all."

"It's our go-to route for this mission. I expect for you to have expended all your ammunition before we're done with this." Talbot turned around, looking at the cities on the chalkboard. They were only marked with dots, from the basic map that Quillfeather had provided them, but it appeared that there weren't that many large griffon settlements, and many of the towns were agrarian, dotting the spaces between the cities instead. "Snowfeather... care to fill us in on the cities? I know the one in the center, near the top, is Tesseraka, the griffon capital city. What are the other ones?"

Snowfeather hopped off his seat and walked up to the board. "Hmm... this one..." he said, pointing at a city across the southern range of mountains, a bit away from the Equestrian border. "...is Carseract. It's a rather unsightly slum city, built into a large crater that was once a quarry. They expended the mines there a few years back, and it's become just another city, albeit a large one."

Talbot became curious. Usually any location used for gaining resources was an immediate red flag in the manual. "Mining? What were they mining there?"

"I don't know. My father said it had something to do with those strange new weapons General Castshot was using."

"They were mining the components for gunpowder..." Mendoza said. "It wouldn't surprise me if they could harvest sulfur and saltpeter, and I'm already pretty sure you guys know how to make charcoal judging from what I saw in the kitchens."

"Possibly," Snowfeather said. "Carseract is actually just north of Ardmis. That's probably where the first of the generals will have a garrison waiting. The location is just too prime for invasion, and could make a good home base for... all of the generals, actually. It can hold the legions that Red Talon has, or the ships that Quickwing has, or even Castshot's artillery regiments. We'll find out once we get to Ardmis, I suppose."

"First haunting grounds," Raymond laughed. "A quarry turned slum city? We should be right at home."

"What about the, uh... the Elements of Harmony I recall the Princesses speaking about?" Harvey asked.

"Please, doc," Mendoza said, folding his arms. "I don't think the elements of harmony and friendship are going work on this one. Maybe against an ancient evil that's forever plagued the land or some evil magical demigod from the moon, but I don't think these elements were made to shoot down lines of infantry by the hundreds."

"The only element that'll work in this war is the element of surprise," Raymond laughed, exchanging a high-five with Mendoza.

"Damn straight," Mendoza chuckled. "We are the goddamn Ghosts! Those bastards won't even see what hit 'em. Swift, silent, invisible."

"Save the party for after the mission, Fuse," Talbot shot at him, earning a shrug from Mendoza as the loud explosives expert quieted down. "Right, then, Snowfeather, what about the other cities?"

Snowfeather pointed at a city north of Carseract, immediately straight ahead from the center pass between the mountain ranges. "That's Aerocem. I'm pretty sure Highcloud will be stationed there. Stratus Highbase, the homebase for the griffon air cavalry, resides on top of the mountain there. There's going to be a problem getting up there, though..."

"Is it guarded?"

"No... but there are no roads leading up to it. Most of the food and supplies for the Highbase are brought up using flight, or grown within the base itself. You're going to need the help of the loyalists to get up there."

"Fantastic..." Talbot said. And if they happened to fall, they won't have any parachutes, either. "Let's just hope the griffons can fly well. What else?"

"There's Kruvem, just west of Aerocem. It's a city that's surrounded by the plains that make up most of the Griffon Empire's territory, sitting on flat ground, with most of the other cities visible in all directions. Most of the area around it is cultivated as farmland. Fortress Helmguard is immediately north from there."

"Any idea on the density of griffon troops between settlements?"

"There shouldn't be many. The army doesn't normally do patrols because the griffon people are more than capable of defending themselves from anything. Unless the dragons invade, most towns police themselves and the army just does their own thing."

"Interesting. So what other cities are there? I notice a few in the northwest."

"Ah, yes, that one..." Snowfeather said, pointing to one of the cities far northwest, sitting at the base of the mountain ranges that curved around the Griffon Empire's northwest borders. "...is Brightshard, a mountain city. The fortress for that city is partially built into the mountainside, like many griffon cities of old. The mines still run, even today, producing the metal that the military uses."

"There's another one here..." Talbot said, pointing to another city southeast of Brightshard. "I assume the iconography around it represents a forest?"

"Ah, yes, that is Leafhaven, and where most of the wood for the Griffon Empire comes from. The forest makes up the area between Brightshard and Tesseraka, and can actually get pretty snowy in the northern reaches around this time of year. I expect Tesseraka to be intact, as well as Iron Mountain, which sits directly behind it to the north, but beyond that, I expect there to be some heavy snowstorms. Travel in the north is severely impeded during those times, so I wouldn't recommend it."

"For you, perhaps. The Ghosts have ample training in moving through hostile environments. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage and sneak close to Tesseraka without being detected." Talbot noticed that a huge stretch of the north beyond the line of Iron Mountain was uninhabited, no doubt due to the snowstorms.

There was the sound of a whir and then a beep as the sound of a sensor grenade activating pulsed across Talbot's crosscom. He looked to see the doctor locking in the side hatch for the grenade, a combat knife and several metal tools on the table before him. He looked to the Ghosts with glee across his face. "Look, look, I've done it!" he shouted.

"Seriously, doc?" Mendoza asked. "Well, that's what you get from a guy who worked at DARPA..."

"No, really, see, just... watch!" He powered off the grenade and then reactivated it, causing the red diamonds on the crosscom to disappear and then reappear. "Haha, it works!"

"Yeah, that's just... would you mind, doctor? I can't really... see at the moment," Talbot said, the giant red blip that was Snowfeather in front of his vision.

"Oh, yes, sorry about that." The grenade shut off with a low whir before the diamonds faded again. "I'll just..." He cleared his throat. "...get working on the rest of the grenades now." He wheeled around on his chair as he picked up another grenade, dropping the modified on other empty side of the table.

"Right, then..." Talbot said, looking at Tesseraka on the map. "So that's all the major settlements?"

Snowfeather looked over the map, his gaze eventually falling upon the southern territory of the Empire. "Mostly, yes. I only recall Ardmis fondly because my family passed through it many times during our visits to Equestria. The town was actually small, with a population less than a hundred, but the residents were a mix of both ponies and griffons, all farmers."

"That's rather surprising." Hearing that a group of beings that they were going to war with had actually once resided peacefully with the ponies was certainly news to Talbot.

"Indeed. Most griffonfolk are actually very down-to-earth, and very accepting, much like the ponies are. There are some drastic differences, of course, like griffons eating meat and our standing military compared to the Equestrians, but for the most part, we try to accommodate each other's differences. Many pony-griffon towns have created some rather interesting vegetarian cuisine that can cater to both species."

"So I assume griffons like Strongbeak are the exception?"

"Absolutely," Snowfeather said, looking down at his claws. "Most griffons see us as having a good relationship with the ponies. Most actually don't want to go to war, but with Strongbeak and his generals holding control over most of the Empire, we're helpless to do anything." He sighed. "To think that I would end up meeting the most esteemed Princesses of Equestria like this..."

"It could have been much worse..." Talbot commented, but changed the topic. "What about the griffons that are going to be sent to war? Do they hold the same opinions as the people do?"

"I'm not sure. Most of the generals have troops extremely loyal to them. It was always a joke that I heard many of the Emperor's Imperial Guard say: that every griffon in a legion is the spitting image of their general because the camaraderie in each legion is actually very strong. It wouldn't surprise me if the men under the generals' command willingly went to war with them, especially with Strongbeak's promises of glory and power."

Talbot held up a hand. "Wait a moment. Imperial Guard? The Emperor has his own guard?"

"Yes, though I assume they were overpowered by Strongbeak's legion within Tesseraka Palace. The Imperial Guard are well-trained and well-armed, but they don't hold the advantage in numbers."

"Any news about them?"

"Last I heard, most of the loyalists fleeing from Tesseraka were under the command of the remnants of the Imperial Guard... at least, those that weren't killed by Strongbeak. My uncle was their captain, so it was unsurprising that he would end up as leader of the loyalist movement."

Talbot grabbed his chair and sat down, now looking at Snowfeather face-to-face. "You weren't lying when you said your family had strong ties to the crown."

"Indeed." Snowfeather paused for a moment, realigning his glasses. "I was actually training to take over for my father, actually... being a scribe and all that, and eventually an advisor to the crown."

"Yo, boss, are we good to go, or what?" Mendoza asked, juggling his MR8 magazines in the air. He caught them all with his right hand and then stuffed them into his ammo pouches. "Those griffons aren't going to wait all year, you know."

"In due time," Talbot said. "I only needed you all in your equipment for basic gear check. We will launch the operation in a short span of time, sooner if we make good progress. For now, double check your camouflage and pull diagnostics on your magnetic goggles."

"Ten-four, sir," Mendoza saluted. There was the sound of a click as Mendoza activated his magnetic goggles, his head looking up and down, and then left and right around the room. "Well, these babies still work fine..." he laughed. His form disappeared as Raymond, who was checking over his MR8 and M107, shook his head as Mendoza started grabbed several unmodified sensor grenades and began juggling. The contact with a new object, however, broke his camouflage, but he continued anyway.

"Corporal, do you mind?" Harvey said. "Please, put those down and stop fooling around!"

"Right... sorry, doc," Mendoza said, rolling the three grenades on the table. His shoulder-mounted rocket pods raised above his shoulders as he turned his head in various directions, checking to see if his target acquisition software was up to par. 

Pastor had activated the recon drone, flying the little rotor-operated device around the room, earning a confounded glance from Harvey and one of astonishment from Snowfeather.

"Aside from that..." Talbot muttered. Snowfeather looked back to him. "...is there anything else we should know about the Empire? Weather? Terrain between cities, all that?"

"Well, yes, I can sketch out a basic terrain map for the Empire. I took some classes on cartography as a scribe, but I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty. I'll do my best... is there a scroll and a quill around here?"

"I'll ask the guards for one." Talbot opened the door and whispered his request to the guard, who merely nodded and then trotted off for the supplies. He had only turned away from a moment after closing the door before hearing a knock. They were certainly quick on their feet... or rather, hooves. He thanked the guard as he took the materials, putting them on another office table for Snowfeather to use.

"Let's see now..." He scrawled out the uneven circular boundaries of the Griffon Empire, marking down blots for the cities and tinier ones for towns and settlements. It only took a matter of moments before the map had been completed, including the two mountain ranges that separated the Empire from Equestria. "Do you need extra copies?"

"Won't be needing them," Talbot said, activating his crosscom's visual scanner. A thin blue light ran up and down the span of the scroll, as Snowfeather confusedly looked between Talbot's head and the table. "There. Thank you for that, Snowfeather," he said, bringing up a digital representation of the map on his crosscom. "This will really come in handy."

"That's... quite impressive. You can keep the map in that little... device of yours, on your head?"

"Yep." Talbot turned around to see Pastor double-checking the safety locks on Mendoza's rocket launchers. "That'll be it for today, feel free to drop your gear whenever, but be prepared to leave on a moment's notice. The countdown to war is ticking down." The Ghosts saluted him before dispersing to their corners and began disassembling their gear.

"Any further orders, boss?" Pastor asked.

"None for the rest of today. Do whatever you want, within reason. MR8s are not to fire under any circumstances, but Scope may want to test fire a round or two on his M107 to calibrate his optics. Fuse, usual orders: don't blow something up. We don't need a repeat of what happened at Bragg six months back."

Raymond started laughing and Pastor rolled his eyes, leaving the unaware Mendoza to sputter as he looked at Talbot, thinking of a response.

"It was an accident! Sheesh, it was just firecrackers on an RC car!" he remarked. "How the hell was I supposed to know they had exposed combustibles laying around?"




"You needed me for wartime projections?" Talbot asked. He sat at a large circular table, with a huge war map in the center, with small cutouts of red and blue blocks denoting griffon and pony detachments. Several of the blue ones sat on top of Canterlot.

He looked around the table, eyeing the faces of many weathered royal guard veterans, most likely commanders and captains from veteran guard units. He also noted the presence of several non-royal guard ponies, most likely leaders of the militias. Celestia and Luna sat to his right, while Shining Armor sat to his left. He folded his arms across the table, observing the placement of the pieces.

"Indeed, Captain Talbot," Celestia responded. "If Doctor Harvey's vouching is anything to go by, you and your Ghosts hold, by far, the greatest amount of combat experience here, especially having been involved in a war much more recently than we have. We feel that our plans are mostly complete, but would like to have you here just in case."

"I can understand that, but you have to realize, Princess... I'm not exactly the best strategist when it comes to these things. The most I can provide is my own soldier's intuition, though seeing as we're the ones at a disadvantage here, my advice might come in use, though, for your own sake, I will only recommend general advice, not ones that adhere more closely to my... unit's doctrine. But from what we've spoken about before, I doubt there's much I can offer. You know your soldiers better than I do."

"In any case, we're glad to have you here, Captain," Shining said. He motioned for an assistant to begin moving the blocks around. "We're bringing in several dozen detachments straight down from Stalliongrad, namely most of the royal guard contingent minus one company, and most of the Stalliongrad militia. We intend to set them up in the center pass for the Empire's advance. They'll most likely try to advance straight through the center since it has the most direct route to Canterlot."

"Are the Stalliongrad forces the most experienced?" Talbot said. Around three dozen blue blocks had been moved from the far northeast of the world map from Stalliongrad to the center mountain pass.

Shining nodded. "They are. They're up there in terms of training with most of Canterlot's royal guard forces. You won't find them lacking."

"Then it's wise to keep them to hold the pass. What measures will you take to hold it?"

"We'll simply hold them off using armored earth ponies, using pegasi to scatter their infantry and prevent them from passing. Our unicorn companies are currently undergoing training as per the Princesses' suggestion to counter the griffon cannons. They're making good progress: they can hit a target from a half valley's distance. We already have the heavy ballistae moving in convoys the hills above to set up for their battle wagons."

"Are the ballistae protected?"

"Yes. We've deployed guards along with them, but they're out in the open. I hoped that we could set them up within the forest line at the ridges of the pass, but they're just simply too large. We have to deploy them in the clearings."

"Have you considered knitting a forest camouflage netting?"

"Uh... I'm not sure I know what that is."

Talbot sat back in his chair, motioning in the air with his hand. "It's essentially a net woven in a loosely-made pattern to allow air to blow through, but it has the green and brown colors of the forest. From an aerial view, it'll go a long way in preventing them from being spotted while setting up. You essentially set up a large tent and cover the top using this netting, shielding it from direct sight in the air. With any due luck, the griffon air scouts won't be able to see it."

"That sounds rather useful, actually. I'll get the requisitions ponies right on it."

"Don't expect that thing to do much in the terms of actual defense, though," Talbot added. "It's just there to hide them, not protect them."

"Duly noted." Shining wrote down Talbot's suggestion on a piece of parchment that lay in front of him. "We also have the Manehattan, Trottingham, and Fillydelphia units moving to cover the northern pass."

"I saw the map. Will the Empire's snowstorms impede their progress in the north?" Talbot looked at the map: the pass was below the line established by Iron Mountain, but still north enough to suffer from some degree of frost.

"Not for our soldiers. Most of the northern ponies are well-accustomed to the cold weather, so we won't have much problems unless they get snowed in. Manehattan's guard armory is also bringing out their heavy ballistae to watch the northern passes for the aforementioned battle wagons, and the pegasi and earth ponies are among the hardiest in Equestria."

"That's good to hear. How many total so far?"

"So far, we have around two thousand to hold the dense center pass, with around three thousand holding the northern pass. The remaining units from Maremi and Appleloosa will be coming up from the south and protecting the southern pass. Most of them are farmers, though, so they hold the advantage in earth pony numbers. We're dispatching some of the Canterlot royal guards to help bolster their numbers as well as support them with pegasi and unicorn reinforcements, as well as diverting some heavy ballistae to the south."

"And the rest will be diverted as needed?"

"Yes. The remaining militia from Las Pegasus and Cloudsdale will be divided up as needed and sent to where their numbers are needed most. I expect it'll be a 40-20-40 split between the three passes, though. Aside from the pegasi and unicorn units we'll be deploying to the southern pass, most of the Canterlot guard here will be working as protection for the Princesses and the officers, and extending patrols to Ponyville."

"What are you doing about the civilians?"

"They'll be moved further inland away from the front. We have camps set up along most of the eastern stretch, and some settlements willing to take and in care for the relocated."

"Will the other towns and cities be defended?"

Shining nodded. "They all have their own defense forces, and the majority of the militia can return to the cities quickly for defense if need be. We have the home territory advantage, and I'm confident we can hold out until the problem of the generals have been dealt with. I assume you and your squad are ready to go?"

"We're more than ready. I plan to deploy within the week, though I'd rather wait until the royal family has reached safety."

Celestia spoke up. "There is no need to worry about that, Captain. Luna's Night Guard received word of their carriage entering Equestrian borders just a while ago, and they will be escorting them here to Canterlot."

"Good. Then the Ghosts will prepare for immediate departure. The longer we wait, the more time they have to plan."

"Where will you enter?" Shining looked to the war map.

"We'll be entering here..." Talbot pointed at the southern pass. "...at Ardmis, like originally planned. We'll do so with caution, and we'll be bringing Snowfeather with us. No carriages, however, and we'll be staying away from the main roads. We don't know if this might be a trap, so we'll be transported to the forests due south and then walk directly to town."

"The forest ends around Equestrian borders, Captain," Luna said. "There will be nothing but grasslands for miles until Ardmis."

"Well, if it's just Snowfeather walking across the grass, it'll surely raise less attention than four humans. Again, I'll reiterate: we don't know if this is a trap. Better to be safe than sorry, even with the information given to us."

"Very well. We shall hold with the plans. If Quillfeather says the generals hold as much clout as he says they do, then after your Ghosts accomplish your objective, we shall proceed immediately to counterattack while their forces are in chaos." Luna nodded knowingly. She'd obviously been planning this for a while.

"I'd also like for you to do one more thing, Captain..." Celestia said.

"And what would that be, Your Majesty?" He raised an eyebrow towards the addition to their plans.

"If possible, I would like you to infiltrate the Bastion of the Ancestors at Iron Mountain, and help free the Emperor."

A jailbreak. Mendoza would have a few choice words to say about that, if he were here. "I can't guarantee anything, Princess, but I'll see what we can do."

"Thank you. We appreciate what you and your squad are willingly choosing to do."

"Don't mention it, Your Majesty... we're just repaying the kindness you've shown to us so far... and besides... I believe some of my men are getting..." He gave a nervous chuckle. "...antsy, to say the least. Getting them out there will do them some good to clear their heads. They aren't, uh, exactly the type to get cooped in a room all day."




"Here we go. One glass bottle, ready for Scope to rip a new one." Raymond could see Mendoza at extreme distance, setting a small glass bottle on top of a stone bench, before quickly sprinting away. "Fire away, chief!"

"M107 test firing, take one," Raymond said over the crosscom. He'd done basic calibrations on the sights, but the only real way to know if he'd done so correctly was to actually fire the gun, if only once. He'd cleaned the gun out, and while none of the parts were damaged, he didn't know how much of the sights had been thrown off by their little entry into this new world.

He sat on top of one of the towers, Pastor standing behind him with his visor in binocular mode, looking down upon the other end of the royal castle gardens. There were a number of royal guards, both off and on-duty ones, in a circle behind them, waiting to see what Raymond would do with this strange new weapon of his.

"And... Fuse is out of range." Pastor had looked downrange as he saw Mendoza trying to shoo away anypony who got too close, warning them of the impeding test firing. "Cleared to fire, Scope."

Raymond's crosscom locked onto the small bottle, again putting up details on wind speed and distance to target. He made sure he calibrated his scope as much as possible, before firing, so now was the final test. He steadied his breath, zooming in ever more with his scope, until the crosshairs lined up just right where he wanted them to, and slowly pulled the trigger...

The resulting shot cracked the skies louder than thunder, as the guards jumped back as the .50 BMG round exited the barrel of the M107. Raymond could see the bottle crack open and he felt himself smile. As befitting a crack shot like himself, he would be surprised if he couldn't hit the target on his first shot.

"Whoo-ee! Nice one, Scope. You hit that thing straight on the mark!" Mendoza had walked over to the bench, examining the broken glass shards of the bottle that now sat on top and around the bench.

"Good shot, Scope," Pastor confirmed.

"Uh-huh," Raymond grunted in response. "Looks like this thing's one hundred percent calibrated." He pulled the M107 off of its bipod stand, setting it on safety and pulling it by its carrying strap, holstering it across his shoulder. "Glad we didn't have to waste more than just that one round."

"That was pretty impressive!" said one guard. Pastor turned to see that it was Sky Watch, standing near the back of the group of curious guards. "How far did you guys shoot? Is Scope that good of a shot like you say he is?"

"Took a shot across the entire span of the gardens," Raymond said, nonchalantly shrugging. "Nothing too big."

"Wow, not even our better crossbow shots can fire that far."

Pastor had a dry grin. "Yeah, well, your weapons are still a long way off. Maybe someday when--"

"This is Talon to Anvil Squad: prepare to deploy. Grab Snowfeather and meet at the west tower balcony," Talbot's voice rang in. "We are entering operational mission doctrine. All references will be by tagnames only, no rank or actual names. Check your rounds and equipment. Doctor Harvey should be finished calibrating the grenades by now. Prepare to ship out."

The guards gave looks of confusion when the Ghosts had broken off of the conversation. Pastor smiled at them. "Looks we're shipping out sooner than expected."




"Already deploying so soon?" Harvey asked, walking alongside the Ghosts and Snowfeather on the way to the west tower balcony. He carried the remaining five sensor grenades unclaimed by Talbot, and had intended to deliver them to him by walking with the Ghosts.

"An op's an op, doc," Mendoza said. "Better to strike now than later, and I'd rather try to sneak in before the armies of griffons start walking across the border, thank you very much."

"Like what Fuse said, doctor," Pastor said. "The most we could have done at this point is just plan on sketchy intelligence. By going directly to the loyalists, we'll have the final pieces of the puzzle, and from there, we can begin our operations."

Pastor and Mendoza both had their own compact crossbows, as well as carrying a single quiver of bolts. Raymond had his M107 as well as two quivers of arrows and his recurve bow. Talbot, who wasn't with them, would most likely have the same basic bow armaments as Pastor and Mendoza, but the agreed-upon method was the usage of their firearms until they ran out of ammunition before switching to the bows.

They quickly broke across the last of the steps, seeing the sun begin to drop behind the horizon as Talbot stood waiting with a large carriage drawn by four Night Guards.

"About time," Talbot said. "Load up and get on board." The Ghosts and Snowfeather quickly hopped on board the carriage, leaving Talbot to speak with Harvey. "Doctor."

"Captain," Harvey said, handing back the sensor grenades to Talbot. "You stay safe out there, okay?"

"You, too, doctor." Talbot then unexpectedly pulled out his sidearm, a suppressed FNP-45 Tactical, handing it to Harvey as he pulled out two magazines to go along with it. "Take these."

"What? Captain... I'm no soldier."

"The Ghosts aren't going to be around here to protect you, Doctor. I need you to have some assurance that you'll be safe, even when we're gone." 

Harvey sighed, then reluctantly took the weapons. "Very well... but what will you have then?"

Talbot shook his head humorously, before pulling out a jet-black revolver from his pack, waving it in the air before sliding it into the holster where his pistol once sat. "A Chiappa Rhino 60DS." Harvey was about to say something, then closed his mouth. Talbot opted to respond for him. "Being captain gives you a little leeway with what you can bring. Now, stay safe, doctor."

The two exchanged a salute, before the final Ghost boarded the carriage, and the four humans cloaked as the carriage began to ride into the sky. Harvey stared at them for the longest time, waiting until the small shape disappeared into the horizon. He looked down, hefting the gun in his hand... and hoping that he would never have to use it.
> Crossing Borders
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Shell, in position."

"Fuse, in position, Talon."

"Scope, in position. Ready to move."

"Talon, in position," Talbot said, noticing the silhouettes of his comrades inching up to his left and right. They sat at the edge of wind-swept clearing, and could see the fires coming from Ardmis in the distance. The rest of the Ghosts had already activated camouflage, scattered loosely in a line formation, as Talbot crouched next to Snowfeather. "Are you ready?"

Snowfeather nodded. "I... I believe I am."

The Ghosts had their fair share of VIP protection missions, usually people who had no combat sense whatsoever, and this situation wasn't any different. "Just approach the town and act normal. If your uncle is really in town, then we'll need you to keep any doors open for us long enough for us to get through. Otherwise, if this really is a trap, we'll take out any hostiles, move you to safety, and immediately head north for Carseract... though I believe that our mission will be considerably more difficult without loyalist support."

"I understand, Captain... I'll do my best. Having been raised in the political court, I knew when to hold a face when I have to." He quickly breathed in and out, doing his best to rid himself of the jitters. "I won't fail you."

"I have faith you won't," Talbot said, tapping the young griffon on his shoulders. "We're ready to move when you are."

"Well, there's no use waiting any longer," Snowfeather said, his voice full of nervous confidence. "Let's get started."

With a nod, Talbot's form quickly turned transparent, leaving the background of rolling grasses in his place. Snowfeather steeled himself and prepared to begin the trek towards Ardmis. The profiles of guards wielding spears could be seen in the distance... either soldiers under military command, or loyalists put on watch by Scarclaw.

The Ghosts tailed him in a quickly-advancing crouch, their forms perfectly obscured by the darkness. Talbot was glad that the grass wasn't well-grown around here, otherwise the sight of four parting trails going through the fields would have raised a lot of immediate suspicion.

"Hey, you know... I just realized that their cities sound a lot like ours," Mendoza said. "I mean, really... Manehattan? Trottingham? Fillydelphia? Stalliongrad? And Las Pegasus? I can imagine some people going 'Earth, fuck yeah!' to know that our influence can stretch across portals."

"Operational silence, Fuse..." Pastor said. "...but, yeah, that's... pretty odd. We can debate similarities later, just shut your trap for now."

"Package is coming up on the town now," Talbot said. "Hold position, medium range, and observe." Talbot quickly tagged the guards: two standing at the town entrance, and two more armed with ranged bow-type weapons on the roofs on either side. "Targets are to be terminated at my signal if things get ugly." Four tracer lines found their sight on each of the guards... a synchronized kill would silently take them all out at once before the alert could be sounded.

The Ghosts had stopped just short of the town, holding position on the sides of the road, watching as Snowfeather walked down the road, his face and form having been dirtied a bit with the field that they'd traveled through. Hopefully, it would help appeal his case to the guards, depending on what sort of story the griffon had planned.

"Halt," they could hear. "Who goes there?"

"I am Scribe Snowfeather, of the Imperial Court. I am here on official business."

The guards looked at each other. "We received no notice about a scribe visiting."

"My father Quillfeather was in the Imperial Court... perhaps you've heard of him? I'm here to visit my uncle, Scarclaw."

Another exchanged glance. "Wait here." One of the guards turned away, entering a large building in the distance dressed with red banners, most likely an inn or a command post of some sorts. Snowfeather tentatively waited for his return as all the Ghosts save Talbot maintained their target locks on their respective guards.

The guard exited the building again, quickly looking around, before jogging to the town entrance. "You're sure you haven't been followed? General Scarclaw has been expecting you, on a letter from your father."

"I haven't been followed, trust me."

"Very well. Quickly, this way." Snowfeather quickly looked around again, and imperceptibly hesitated for a moment when looking back towards the road, before following the guard to the building.

"Confirm on allies, move forward, flank right. Avoid the road," Talbot said. He canceled the targets marked, and quickly maneuvered with the Ghosts, sneaking through some empty alleys behind some buildings on the right, avoiding the gaze of one of the tower guards, before proceeding through the town square.

"...been a real mess since things went down. Scarclaw will be glad that you're safe." The guard had slowed his procession, making some small talk with Snowfeather. "Quickly, inside the inn. Your uncle is waiting in the back room." The Ghosts quickened their crouched pace, catching up with the stairs as the flickering lantern outside the inn's door did little to reveal their forms.

The guard quickly held open the door, as Snowfeather slowly looked around.

"Something wrong, kid?"

"Nothing, just... looking at the night sky again. Strange how I could end up here, of all places..." Talbot took the cue and quickly motioned for the Ghosts to move inside the inn, easily avoiding the awareness of the guard as the armored griffon stood nodding knowingly towards Snowfeather's situation. The four humans stood waiting in the darkness of the inn, watching the two griffons enter and quickly followed them to the back halls.

The lone innkeeper minded his own business, cleaning several glass mugs as a couple of other griffons sat playing cards at a corner table. Snowfeather and the guard walked down a dim hallway, stopping just short of a door. The hallway was thankfully spacious enough to allow the Ghosts to hug the walls while still leaving enough room to walk.

"Snowfeather!" Scarclaw said, ushering his nephew in with a wave of his claw. "Come in! It's been so long. How have you been?" Snowfeather entered as the guard bowed, closing the door, before walking down the hallway, past the Ghosts who now stacked up against the closed door.

"I've been fine, uncle. Actually, if you could just hold on for a moment..." Snowfeather opened the door again, checking to make sure the guard had left, before waiting a moment, paying close attention to the near-silent taps of the Ghosts' boots, before closing the door again behind him. "Anyway, I've been told by father that you've been leading the loyalist movement."

"Indeed," the grizzled former general said. "Many of the legions and the rest of the Imperial Guard joined up with me after the coup. I also received some Imperial Guard that arrived just this afternoon, after a successful escort with the royal family into Equestria. Ancestors bless those ponies, could always trust them in a pinch."

"Have you asked for help yet?" Snowfeather asked.

"Tar my feathers, absolutely not!" Scarclaw said, slamming his clenched claw into the table. "This is a griffon problem, and we'll settle this the griffon way! The Equestrians can keep all their ponies for the upcoming war. We griffons loyal to the crown will be waging our own here within the next fortnight!"

"Well, uncle..." Snowfeather said, looking around the seemingly empty room. "...what if the Equestrians sent help, after all?"

"Huh? What are you talking about, Snowfeather?"

Snowfeather dropped the mission map on the table, rolling it open for Scarclaw to examine. "The Equestrians have put forth a plan to terminate the generals, and perhaps stopping the war before it even begins. The only problem is that the locations of the generals are still unknown."

"That's a mighty risky plan, Snowfeather... but I like it. Why bother pulling feathers when we can just send the message straight to those traitors by gutting them directly where it hurts: themselves!" He looked at the scroll detailed along with it. "And I'll be damned, they even know how to pick their targets!" he laughed.

"Well, that's because it wasn't really the ponies that put forward this idea, uncle..." Snowfeather nervously began.

"I'm not sure I follow, Snow, what's going on?"

"The Equestrians have sent help, but not in the way you'd imagine." Talbot quickly recognized that it was almost his time to enter the spotlight. "They sent non-pony help, that is, to put the nail in the coffin before this war even begins. Captain Talbot, if you'd join us, please?"

There was a palpable silence for a moment.

"So... we all doin' this, or...?" Mendoza asked, slowly looking around the room at the scattered positions of Anvil Squad.

"Not our call," Raymond said. "But for discretion, I'd suggest that only one of us should do the talking. And we already know who should be doing it."

Talbot nodded, stepping into the light of the small room, revealing his form to the waiting Snowfeather and the now-shocked Scarclaw.

"Ancestors preserve us!" Scarclaw shouted, pulling out a crossbow from underneath the table. "What manner of creature are you?" He kept the crossbow trained on Talbot, who simply stood there, switching his sight between Snowfeather and the Ghost. "Snowfeather, what's the meaning of this?"

"Uncle, this is the help that the Equestrians sent us. This is Captain Talbot, of the Ghosts."

Scarclaw narrowed his eyes, sizing up the human. "Ghosts... I like that name." He collapsed the heavy crossbow, putting back under the table as Talbot noticed that the bolt was large enough to easily penetrate his armor. Griffon weaponry was most certainly not to be underestimated, even with their technological advantage. "So... what are you? You sure aren't any pony I've ever seen before."

"He's a human, uncle..." Snowfeather responded. "They're currently guests within Equestrian borders, at least until the Princesses find a way to help them return to where they came from."

"Not from around here, eh?" Scarclaw nodded. "Well, you can sure hold your own salt when it comes to planning, so you must be a seasoned soldier. Nice to know that another species can plan as well as we do. Stuck here until the whole situation gets fixed?"

"Yes... and we'd rather avoid having griffons marching in and start killing ponies on our watch, thank you very much."

"I can understand that... usually anybody on the losing side of a griffon war usually gets... well, I'm not going to go into details on that, but I can safely say that deciding to take action instead of letting things work themselves out is a good choice... especially considering how good griffons are at killing things."

Talbot gave a short chuckle. "I can relate."

"Yeah, it seems to be a soldier thing," Scarclaw said, noticing his nephew's confused look. "Now, to business. I see that you're going to stick a knife right in the generals' gullet, and you need information to help locate them. Picking Gale Whisper first was wise: he's a slimy bastard, hates being seen out in the open. Strongbeak put him in charge of information gathering on Equestrian military strength, and he's currently stationed at Carseract, from what I know, since it's really close to the border."

"Is his position as the intelligence branch of the griffon military that fearsome?"

"Is it? The minute you kill any other general, he'll have a million and one getaway plans thought up for himself and every other general. He's a shameful coward, and he thinks like one... so the first thing he always pays attention to when he walks into a room is the quickest way out. But... if you run him through before he even has a chance to react, then that cripples the generals on the actual presence of assassins, as well as killing one of the smarter generals in the Empire."

Talbot halted, thinking for a moment. "...does that mean that they're aware that there are assassins after them?"

Scarclaw shook his head, before turning around and dropping a tome and some papers on the table. "No, he's just a paranoid busybody like that. Before I even retired, he'd always been a jumpy one. Thought he might have had half a mind to just retire and go hide in some cave in the northern reaches somewhere, away from all us 'deceiving folk'."

"Great. A paranoid spook. This one should be interesting," Raymond said in a low whisper, only audible through the crosscom. "If he's half as good as Maynard was, we'll be in for one hell of a wild goose chase."

"So, if anything, that's where you want to start. I do have some groups hidden within the city, some even working within the magistrate's palace, which Whisper has taken over. Best bet's probably to look for clues inside, though I haven't really given many orders to my Carseract units because there really isn't anything to be had there. It's a straight-down hole in the ground with the strategic value to match."

There was a loud clamor from outside as off-duty guards poured in for their evening meal. The room was small and contained, but the sound of griffons loudly entering the inn could be heard through the door. Even more obvious was the smell of food being cooked, namely...

Raymond sniffed. "Meat."

"Uh-oh, looks like the lean mean killing machine is low on fuel," Mendoza joked.

"Fuse, zip it," Pastor said. And this was why you had a trusted second-in-command to keep the rest in line. It would have been extremely disorienting if Talbot had to reveal that there were four of them before they had to due to Mendoza's rambunctious antics.

"Is the city under lockdown?" Talbot asked.

"Nope. As far as things go, it only has a light military garrison within the palace, but otherwise, it's mostly just civilians. There have been some small riots in the past couple of weeks... a lot of the Empire had great trust in the Emperor, and despite the impressive show of might Strongbeak has displayed, allegiances hold more water than tradition."

"You mean Strongbeak rightfully has claim to the Emperor's throne?"

Scarclaw thought for a moment. "Sort of... it's a really old tradition, back when only the strong led the weak. Strongbeak's got some really loose reasoning for taking the throne, but I think he just wants to take back griffon lands and have them stay griffon lands."

"Can we count on having full loyalist support?"

"Damn straight you can! I don't know how human military tactics work, but you've got a good head on your shoulders, and this is one damn risky plan. High risk, high payoff. You pull this off correctly, and we might not even have to turn to civil war to end this. The loyalists stand with you, captain."

"And a final detail: is there a remote chance that we can rescue the Emperor somehow?"

Scarclaw pulled out a scroll, rolling it open on the table. "See this? These are the plans for the Bastion itself. Impenetrable through any normal means, even from above. The only way in is through the main gate, and that's heavily guarded by itself. Any supply wagons that come through are thoroughly searched, and even then, the prisons are secluded from the rest of the fortress. I'm not saying that it's impossible, but it's even more riskier than the plan you have at the moment."

"So that's a no, then." Talbot holstered his MR8, leaning over the table and looking over the map. "Can you provide us information on the generals as we take them out?"

"Indeed I can. My loyalist network can transfer information quicker than you can blink... it's a thing I sort of had instated during my command. Turns out a lot of loyalists still know how I give orders around here still," Scarclaw laughed. "I should probably amend the map a bit..." He picked up a quill, dotting it with ink and filling in around a dozen spots on the map. "There. Those spots are loyalist camps, hidden in the wilderness."

Talbot scanned the revised map with his crosscom, uploading it to his squad. "Won't they be suspicious if they see us?"

"Just show them this," Scarclaw unhooked his sigil from his crimson cloak, sliding it across the table. The detail was a single castle-shaped block with a sword through it. "My old General of the Bastion sigil. Show that to them, and they'll know who you are. I'll notify my camps that non-pony help from Equestria has been sent, and let them know to let you in when they see that sigil."

"Can't you just fake a sigil?"

"Perhaps. But Strongbeak is a bit old-fashioned. He won't even think about sending any non-griffons to infiltrate the loyalists, that would just be too risky, and besides, he doesn't trust anything that's not a griffon, either. That's what makes this easier on us. You're not one of us, and you have a sigil. That would be more than enough good evidence to let you in... unless there are more of you. I don't expect you to bring an army, but are you going to take on all the generals by yourself?"

"No, I have my squad with me. We are four in total."

"I see. A strike team, huh? I had several of those under my command when we went to war with the dragons in the past. Nasty business, but dragons were never really one for creativity, just brute force. Makes it easy to sneak under their noses. Anyway, I'll prepare a supply caravan to exit Ardmis within the week, and we'll sneak you into Carseract. A hole in the ground it may be, it still has walls, and the gates are still guarded. The security will be lax, and they usually let caravans through easily enough. That will be your ticket in."

"Where will we be allowed to stay in here?"

"There are bedrooms in the basement, as well as the second floor. Which would you prefer?"

"There would be a nice vantage point on the second floor windows," Raymond said.

"Not to mention jumping out the windows is a pretty good getaway method if we get attacked..." Mendoza said. "Er, not that I'm expecting that we'll get attacked, it's just that I'm a little bit... jumpy around these griffons. Maybe I can scrounge up something to make some tripwire explosives..."

"Play nice, Fuse. We're here to make peace, not war. These guys aren't the enemy," Pastor interrupted.

"Yeah... peace at the end of a barrel," Raymond said, playing his usual card of dark humor.

"We'll take the second story bedrooms," Talbot said, ignoring the hushed side conversation going on in his ear. "Will there be any chance of other griffons entering?"

"Aside from the cleaner, who I'll tell to stay away from the rooms, no. Most of my soldiers here reside in the bunkhouse across the way, and only come here to take their meals. The innkeeper is actually one of my most trusted commanders from the Imperial Guard, and he usually keeps an eye towards any new arrivals to make sure they don't sneak in unnoticed."

"I see. Should we proceed upstairs, then?"

"You should. I'll have some food prepared for you, I'm sure it must have been a long trek if you've made your way here from Equestrian borders without transportation."

"Right, then." Talbot looked to Snowfeather. "Snowfeather, we'll see you upstairs."

"Of course, Captain. I'll be sure to bring some extra food along... do you eat meat, by any chance?"

"Say yes. Please say yes," Mendoza pleaded.

"Yes, we do eat meat. I would like to request that some extra be sent up along with the meal."

"This should be good..." Pastor sighed.




Raymond put his M107 down on the large bedroom dresser in the corner, checking the parts for any damage. "So, this is a nice place you got here, Snow. Real rustic. I like it," he said.

Snowfeather stood by the window, looking out at the group of guards being briefed by Scarclaw on the arrival of Equestrian help below. "Ardmis was always a nice town. My family often came here to visit because it was my uncle's hometown. Though it was different back then... there used to be ponies around here."

"Is that so?" Pastor said, closing the door as he entered. "Didn't figure ponies and griffons to get along all that well, what with the... well, cultural and dietary differences."

"We got along well enough. Ardmis was actually known for being a cooperative farming town, providing grains and wheat for Carseract and many other towns and cities in the Empire... well, it still is, but the ponies seem to have left. I wonder if it had anything to do with the coup..."

Talbot put his helmet on his bed, one of four beds within the room, that sat against the corner. "Undoubtedly, yes. My guess is either the griffons ferried them away to Equestria... or they handed them over to Strongbeak."

"I certainly hope it was the former. Judging by how many of the pony houses seem undamaged, I would guess that Strongbeak's soldiers did not break down their doors in the middle of the night. I will have to ask my uncle about that later. I believe the food should be finished by now, so I will return with them. There's a small manual lift at the end of the hallway, so I'll ferry the food up using that. Strange, I used to love playing hide-and-seek in that." He opened the door, peeking to make sure there wasn't anybody in the hall, before exiting quietly.

"Oh, boy, griffon cuisine," Mendoza said. "Man, this has been a real wild ride, huh? Ponies and griffons and dragons and talking unicorns and all that stuff."

"Like I said, don't be all shocked now. It could have been worse." Pastor's avid reading habit, especially towards science fiction and horror novels, had shown him that things could, indeed, be much worse.

"Too bad this won't be going down in the records," Talbot laughed.

"We're essentially taking down seven generals. Seven. Sheesh, if command believed us, I think we'd be looking at a nifty promotion here," Mendoza said, sitting down at the small dining table in the center of the room. He gave a glance at the chair, noting that it was slightly larger than human standards, probably for griffons.

There was a knock on the door.

"It's unlocked," Talbot said.

"Cart's in the way," Snowfeather said. "The food is here."

Pastor moved over, opening the door with his left hand while leaving his right on his pistol holster. Snowfeather wheeled in a simple cart loaded with many dishes on two separate levels. The presence of spit-roasted meat immediately drew the attention of Raymond.

"Now that's nice," he said.

"First dibs, too," Snowfeather said. "I put some extra on there, like you requested." The group began moving the plates to the dinner table as Raymond wore a smile on his face while Mendoza hopped around with the plates like a giddy schoolgirl.

Mendoza salivated over the meal. "Wow, look at all that. They got bread, eggs, meat..." He picked up a small yellow block and sniffed it. "...cheese, and potatoes. Real nice." It took less than a moment for him to dig in, followed by Raymond. "Oh, man," he mumbled with a mouth full of food. "Is this what you guys eat all the time?"

Snowfeather nodded. "Indeed it is. Much of this meal is par for the course in a griffon meal." He looked to Talbot. "Is your kind always so... ravenous?"

"Only when they're hungry," Talbot informed. "We're normally much more... amiable... when we're not irritated, naturally."




Mendoza was loudly enjoying his fourth serving of food now, still accompanied by Raymond as they completely cleaned off the plates to a much-surprised Snowfeather. The tension was lessened by Mendoza's rather carefree attitude, and the sheer intimidation factor of Raymond's naturally hostile disposition had no bearing on the dinner's conversation.

"Don't let good ol' Scope here fool you, Snow," Mendoza said, taking a bite of eggs. "He's a nice guy... when it matters, anyway."

"And you can never shut your own mouth even if your life depended on it, Fuse."

"What can I say? I'm explosive in personality, as well as my interests. But, you, my good friend, if you had things your way, you'd be able to stare things to death with that glare you walk around with." He mockingly scrunched his face, waving his arms around comically. "Ohoho, look at me, I'm the Angry Woodsman!" Raymond merely smiled, shaking his head as he continued eating his food. Snowfeather had to give a laugh as Mendoza continued his caricature of the marksman.

Talbot stood near the window, peeking out into the night, his view partially obscured by the boarded-up windows, most likely installed for safety. The loyalists were having a large bonfire party in the courtyard, while the moon could be seen rising in the horizon... and on the left, there sat large fields of wheat, slightly moving in the wind, the staple crop of Ardmis' agriculture.

"So..." Pastor said, walking up beside him, and away from Mendoza, who was now regaling Snowfeather with his tale of how he accidentally set part of his barracks at the fort on fire with his fireworks. "...showtime in less than a week. Any ideas on what we'll do?"

Talbot made no move, lost in thought as the glow from the bonfire outside shined into the room. "I'm positively sure that going out in full force before we've located him is a bad idea. We wait, we get our information from Scarclaw, and then we move on that. Whisper will definitely have lieutenants, griffons that he relays his orders to, and know where he might be hiding: that's what we're trying to move on."

"The messengers, huh? I've dealt with his type before."

"Your time at Meade coming back to you?" Talbot said, referencing Pastor's dossier. The Lieutenant had training as an NSA field operative before, and had worked with Third Echelon on a few occasions. He was an intel specialist, but such skills weren't needed in the Ghosts, and Pastor had always been US Army before the NSA, so the career path was obvious. "I know how Third used their 'enhanced' interrogation techniques... and though I'd rather avoid it, we might have to use it here. I don't expect griffons to be particularly easy to break."

Pastor looked out the window with him. "I doubt I'll need to. Leaders like Whisper usually have subordinates much like themselves working for them: all sleazy and cowardly. If we pick our targets right, we might be able to get one to spill the beans without even having to fire a shot. The more dedicated and resilient soldiers would most likely serve under Red Talon or Strongbeak himself. I don't think Whisper is well-known within the griffon military for his ability to inspire troops."

"I can understand that..." Talbot sighed. "It's like we're chasing after Maynard all over again."

"I'm sure he's having a laugh from the other side... speaking of which, what happened to his body?" Pastor asked.

"I spoke with the Princess about it... his remains were cremated, at my behest. No use keeping a body around for God knows how long just so we can drop the damn thing in front of the brass, especially since we only had to report whether or not we had him dead or alive. We have Harvey, and the rest of the science team back in Fortaleza, and that's all we need."

"And about the whole NSA thing..." Pastor said, looking over at the conversing trio at the table. "...they don't know about that, do they?"

Talbot shook his head. "Not unless you want them to. I know that Scope's got a bit of beef with some agents from the other alphabet agencies, but Fuse is clean. The worst he might do is crack a bad joke or two about it."

"I think we can do without that, thank you very much." Pastor pulled out his modified binoculars, cross-linked with his visor to tag any visual or audio information that reaches within its scope of view. "I still got a few gadgets... hope they'll come in use."

"I wasn't aware you still had access to your old kit. What did you bring?"

"Just these binoculars and a visual detection system with calibrated magnetic viewfinder. Don't expect to use them much, but they have greater intensity and range than our magnetic goggles do. On top of that, the detection system's completely automated with local uplink to my crosscom. I usually set them up on hills and tall buildings, and it paints any hostiles within its view on our crosscoms."

"Impressive. Figures that Third Echelon keeps running around with the new equipment... That, uh... detection system could come in use. How large is the device?"

"They don't have active camouflage, so I guess there's that, at least. The D-kit's about as big as a 6-count egg box. Comes with its own tripod, too, so it's essentially a set-and-forget surveillance device."

"Handy. Anything else I should know about?"

"No, sir, that just about covers it. Unless you want to know about those fancy sonar goggles that Third Echelon is running around with now..."

Talbot looked away as there was another knock on the door, which Snowfeather answered. He moved out of the way as Scarclaw came in, sitting down at the table and helping himself to a piece of leg roast.

"I see you've all settled in nicely. How's the cuisine?" he laughed, taking a huge bite of meat. He stopped for a moment, eyeing the other three Ghosts, before returning to his meal.

"If you griffons cook like this every day, I'm not sure if I want to leave," Mendoza said, with an affirmative nod from Raymond. "Thanks for the hospitality. I mean, eating vegetarian to not step on any of the ponies' goodwill is nice and all, but sometimes, the good old diet just comes a-knockin' and you just have to eat the good stuff again."

"Heh, I hear that," Scarclaw laughed. "Sure beats the feathers out of eating hardtack every single day."

"Probably not better than our own military rations..." Mendoza chuckled.

"Well, we can stand in solidarity on that issue." Scawclaw poked into another piece of meat with his claws, bringing it back to his plate. "Anyway, I have news for you Ghosts..." He looked around the table. "We have a supply caravan carrying wheat that's due in Carseract in several days' time. We can hide you in one of the general supply wagons, and bring you to our hideout in the city. From there, I'll have my units provide you with the information you need."

"Sounds good," Talbot said, walking forward. "With any luck, we can take down Whisper within the next week or two, and then we can move on to our other targets."

"I wouldn't put it past you four. Carseract's a dead-end hole... keep searching, and you'll eventually find what you're looking for." He popped the last of his leg roast meat into his mouth. "Well, I have some administrative duties to attend to. Running a resistance movement can be a pain in the wing sometimes, but I guess that's just par for the course. I'll see you all later."

"Good night, uncle," Snowfeather said, as his uncle approached the door.

"Night, Snow," Scarclaw said. "Your bunk is down the hall. Don't stay up too late, alright? My book collection's in my office downstairs if you want to read." He left the room without any further words.

"Captain, Ghosts," Snowfeather nodded. "I'll be taking my leave now. A good night to you all." He followed his uncle out, closing the door. The sound of steps going down the hall indicated that he'd moved to his room.

"Good kid. Shame about what happened to his family..." Mendoza said.

"I guess it's a good thing we'll be returning the favor with interest," Raymond said.

"Right, then," Talbot said. "Prep, check, double-check. Make sure we're all good to go before we ship out."

Strongbeak's little council of generals would find itself minus one in the coming weeks...
> Resistance Rising
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Goddamn, look at the walls on that place. It's looks like the sort of thing if the States decided to take the Arizona meteor crater and build a huge fucking wall around it... only this is one really huge crater." Mendoza squinted out the small open line on the side of the supply wagon, trying to discern the shape of the towering walls approaching them.

"I can see that..." Pastor said, leaning forward to get a better look for himself. "Would you look at that? And the whole thing curves around for the entire length, too. Some craftsmanship if I ever saw it."

Mendoza and Pastor sat on the other side of the large bags of grain, their voices only heard through the crosscom's local comms due to their hushed tones. Talbot looked over the geographic map of the city, as Raymond sat next to him checking on his silenced sidearm: Carseract itself was a mining town, indeed, and the tiers of the city were like a spiral, circling downward towards the center of the city until the bottom, where the magistrate's palace sat.

"So, what's the destination?" Raymond asked, the sounds of the pack animals pulling the wagons and the thumps of the wooden wheels covering any noise that may come from within the wagon.

"Scarclaw told me that we'd be linking up with their unit in the Market District, close to the Palace District. The palace itself is permanently sealed off on Whisper's orders, so it'll be the closest we can get. On top of that, the Market District is one of the denser parts of the city, making it hard for the guards to search for the hideout."

Raymond nodded. "Will we be in the dark or do we have a vantage point?"

"The hideout in particular is a well-established market warehouse. The main floor's still used for grain storage, on top of having a restaurant adjoined to it that acts as a front for the loyalists. We'll be setting up in the hideout underneath the place, while the top floor has a spire where you can set yourself up, though I intend on letting Shell's D-kit pull surveillance on the outer palace grounds."

"Right." There was the sound of talking outside as the caravan came to a stop.

"Halt. What's your business in Carseract?" a guard asked, the boredom in his voice clearly obvious.

The loyalist driving the wagon had been instructed to be as concise on their business as possible, under Scarclaw's orders, and the bags of grain had been specifically stacked so that anyone that opened the wagon doors wouldn't be able to see anything but a wall of nondescript burlap containers, which the Ghosts hid behind.

"A shipment of grains for Carseract from Ardmis, sir," the driver responded.

"More food, huh?" the guard said. "Got any meat in there?"

"Not this time, sorry."

"Ah, damn. This pit of a city's wing-deep in grains and we don't have enough of the other supplies coming in. Maybe we'll get a good caravan in from Tesseraka soon... have to just hope that our own meat rations can hold us out until then." There was silence until the sound of gears clanking could be heard. "Alright, you're clear to go through. Usual business, just head on down to the Market District."

"Thanks. And sorry 'bout the meat..."

"Yeah, no problem. I know Ardmis isn't much of a cattle town, anyway, don't worry about it. You farmers and your endless fields of grain... can always expect grain shipments on time if it's from a griffon farmer." They exchanged a laugh. "Hope the Tesseraka wagons come in before we all grow old. Have a nice day."

"Thanks, and same to you."

Raymond huffed. "Didn't even bother checking the wagon. Sloppy."

"Unless they expect the Equestrians to just sneak in through a wagon, which I highly doubt, the most their security would have to worry about is a direct attack. And judging from the looks of it, they don't seem to be entirely on guard against the loyalists, either. Must have chalked it up to some minor resistance movement considering that they must think that they're the superior military force."

"I disagree. We are the superior military force," Raymond said. "They just don't know it yet."

"Hey, isn't that a bit weird? They didn't even check the wagon!" Mendoza echoed. "If all the guards are this lame, these guys are so screwed."

"I guess this place is more of a shithole than we thought," Pastor said. "Being assigned here must be like being put on latrine duty... I guess I can understand why the troops here in general don't like being stuck at a dead-end post."

"And that works for us. If they're going to be sloppy in their security, it'll make it easier for us to find and track Whisper," Talbot said. "And now, Anvil, go to operational silence. Say nothing unless it's important, and, no, Mendoza, whining about going to the bathroom does not count. We're entering enemy lines now."




The wagon had been traveling downhill for some time now. Talbot could see the daily bustling of the townsfolk and the stations of the guards through his magnetic goggles as they continued down towards the Market District. Though the city was said to be under martial law, it would appear that Strongbeak's declaration didn't seem to hold up well in actual practice. Scarclaw did say that every griffon had some sort of combat training under their belts...

Guard stations appeared to be set up every dozen buildings or so, with each post manned by one or two griffon soldiers. The presence of numbers was certainly something to note... it would make direct infiltration that much harder if the night shift held as much. Given Whisper's tendencies for paranoia, however, it would be surprising if he didn't put more soldiers in for the night watch. They would have to keep an eye out for that.

The wagon took a turn down a street, one bustling with lots of market stalls selling various goods, but mostly foods. Griffons mingled throughout the whole street, making travel for the wagon tediously slow as many of them seemed to enjoy the day's offerings of lunch. The restaurant and the adjoining warehouse was definitely somewhere nearby.

"Big guys, left side, twelve o'clock," Mendoza said. A pair of heavily armored griffons walked by the wagon and down the busy street, as Talbot examined them on the pass-by to glean as much detail as he could. Obviously, they were far too well-equipped for standard soldiers. The best guess was that it was that they were most likely from Strongbeak's legion.

"Targets of interest, unknown numbers, assume veteran training," Pastor said. "Advise avoiding close quarters combat under all situations."

"Targets acknowledged," Talbot said. "Unknown armor caliber and defensive properties, suggest shots towards the head for immediate effect or legs for incapacitation. Given their probable affiliation, we may have to take one in alive."

"Only need one, and our rounds should do more than enough to punch through their helmets," Raymond said. "In all other cases, recommend we take to the roofs and avoid any path of travel that could result in direct confrontation, sir."

"Duly noted. Shell, take the topographic city map and plot direct and alternate routes to the magistrate's palace based upon building roof placement, assume direct access to the undercity and sewers, as well. We'll make a secondary one later if we can get information on guard positions and density."

"Understood, sir, I'll get right on it," Pastor said. "What about the mines? Any information on them?"

"Interesting case. We'll have to look into it and see if we can use them, but we can't assume that they'll be in any condition for traveling since they've been shut down a while back, and also account that attempts to use explosives to force entry from the mine shafts may cause unwanted seismic activity and enemy attention."

"Yes, sir."

"With all due respect, I'd rather avoid having the caves coming down on our head if we can avoid it." Mendoza said, bringing up the map on all their crosscoms. "Fastest way into the palace grounds is over the walls or through the doors. And if not, why use the explosives to bump open a mine shaft when we can just sneak in using sewers? A place like that's got to have some sort of shithole attached to it."

"Except the part where we get caught when we walk in because we're covered in shit," Raymond said.

"Ugh. Good point. Up and over it is, then?"

"Remains to be seen," Talbot said. The wagon stopped just outside a warehouse, with a number of loitering griffons conversing outside a restaurant directly to its left. "Looks like we've arrived." The large double doors of the warehouse opened with a loud groan as bystanders quickly cleared out of the entranceway, amid the shouts of the workers ready to store the month's delivery of grains.

"Four paths direct to palace," Pastor said, marking four routes across various rooftops leading to the bottom. The city's close-packed infrastructure made plotting multiple routes easy for the Ghosts. "As far as things go, we could practically hop over the walls from practically any direction. I'd assume Whisper is aware of this and will most likely put extra security on the walls."

"Avoid, or eliminate?" Raymond whispered, carefully standing back as the sounds of the wagon doors opening alerted them to company. Though their active camouflage was already in effect due, they could never be too sure.

"Alright, load the bags of grain!" they heard a worker shout. The bags blocking their exit were hauled off with a lift and dragged off towards the warehouse walls, where containers for the grain lined the length. The doors were slammed shut as workers quickly emptied the wagons under the watch of several sharply-dressed griffons as the wagon drivers retired to the restaurant for their meals.

"Area clear. Exit the wagon, no noise," Talbot said, waiting for Raymond to disembark before him.

"Hello?" A bifocal-wearing griffon suddenly appeared in front of the wagon, causing the Ghosts to immediately hold their position as Raymond silently leveled his sidearm at his face. "Captain?" the griffon said, leaning inwards. "Are you here?"

"Snowfeather?" Talbot called from the darkness of the wagon. "What are you doing here?"

"He's here with me," Scarclaw said, appearing next to Snowfeather with several armed griffons. "If we're going to start fighting back, then we need to be at the frontlines. I won't have Strongbeak start calling me out on being a chicken if I can't help it. Griffon leaders inspire their men in battle, and when things get hectic, that's exactly what I'll do. Now get your rears out here before someone else sees you."

"How'd you get here?" Raymond asked. The Ghosts quickly scanned the room with their weapons, ensuring that it wasn't a set-up.

"Took a wagon in, like you four," Scarclaw said. "You saw those gate guards?" He shook his head. "A good punishment and twenty--no, thirty laps around the city limits should whip them back into shape. Worst excuse for griffons if I ever did see it!" He stomped his claw into the ground, his red cloak picking up the dust from the warehouse floor, which he brushes off roughly. "Well, enough of that. If you'll follow me..."

Scarclaw led the Ghosts and Snowfeather to a seemingly innocuous red-painted wooden wall, with several chairs and a small box with some liquor in front of it. The guards quickly fanned out behind them, keeping watch for any unwanted eyes, while Scarclaw quickly pulled a small switch directly inside the lamp hanging off the wall behind it, revealing a secret passageway that led into the lower areas.

"And what about those huge armored ones?" Mendoza said, waving away a bit of cobweb as he entered. "Who're those guys?"

"Strongbeak's soldiers," Scarclaw confirmed, picking up a small unlit torch from a box sitting by the entrance and lighting it. "The General of the Bastion has the most elite troops the Empire has to offer. It just shames me that they're all in command of a complete turd-eater like him."

As the Ghosts followed Scarclaw into the passageway, they noticed that the network not only connected the underground of the warehouse and adjoining restaurant as a command post, but that there were also a number of other venues of travel. Those ones were guarded and locked, and from what they could tell from glances through the heavy doors' windows, the tunnels could easily comprise of most of Carseract's span, making it easy for the loyalists to travel undetected.

"Do those tunnels lead to the palace?" Talbot asked.

Scarclaw shook his head, as they rounded another corner, drawing the curious gazes of a room of loyalist soldiers as they passed by. "No. From my inside sources, Whisper has been far too paranoid about the inner infrastructure that he's essentially cordoned it off into its own little system. Our initial plans involved going in through the sewers, but he's ordered heavy steel grates to be constructed within the tunnels every few lengths, which makes sneaking in too time-consuming to be worth it."

"Any direct altercations between loyalists and the army?"

"None yet, but that'll be changing very soon..." Scarclaw walked up to what appeared to be yet another nondescript guarded door, giving a nod to the two guards, before he knocked. The view grate quickly opened as the soldier on the other side noticed Scarclaw, before closing it. A few clanking noises were made before the door opened into a large chamber, with a large table sitting in the center of the room with a war map on top.

"Nice place you got here," Mendoza said. Most of the attention was drawn towards the gigantic mural on the far side of the room, detailing heroic acts of the griffon military in ages past, along with the large amounts of ornamental weapons and shields mounted on the wall. A huge red banner hung at the end of the room, much like the one Raymond had seen at the prison back at Ghastly Gorge.

Scarclaw again nodded at the door guard, and the door was again sealed. "Right, then, on to business. It's going to take some time until we can get fully on our claws... most of the loyalists have had standing orders to wait until we call them to arms. Now is that time, and I'll immediately begin operations to across the Empire: sabotage, information gathering, you name it. But here in Carseract is where it all begins."

"Have any information on the mines here?" Pastor asked.

"Using the mines? Are you all crazy? Those damned holes haven't been used since the mines were shut down due to accidents, one of which resulted in the deaths of fifty-three miners. Trust me, it's not worth it, and besides, none of them go anywhere near the palace: most are located on the periphery of the city's limits. And if you need an escape route, we have plenty of those here in the old tunnel network that lead directly outside of the city."

"Well, it was worth checking," Pastor shrugged. "Sewer's blocked, mines are a deathtrap... at this rate, the only way in is over the walls or through the gates."

"Going in through the gates could be arranged, but it's going to be a bit tricky considering that the palace guards work directly for Whisper and aren't just some second-rate gate guard, and we have to assume that Strongbeak's given him some of his soldiers for protection." Scarclaw walked around the table, before taking up a large wooden chair at the head, and began examining the map.

Talbot sat down in a chair opposite of him. "I thought Whisper wasn't exactly keen on keeping others around."

"Oh, he isn't, trust me. But if it's Strongbeak offering, he'll most likely take it. He's a bit of a thinker, and he'll see that the protection that the elite griffon soldiers can offer him to far outweigh the cons of being swindled."

"So confrontation with them is to be expected, then?"

"Most likely, but I have a plan in mind for them. If it goes down correctly, I'll force Whisper to play his hand before he intends to, and leave him hanging in the open for you to deal with him, while my soldiers go toe-to-toe with them."

"You sure that's a good idea? Going against the best of the best doesn't seem like a good plan if you plan on retiring, that is..."

"Hah! I've retired, and now I'm un-retired. No feathers off my wings, it was getting too boring out there, anyway. And don't worry about it: most of the soldiers I'm bringing in from Ardmis are former elites themselves. They know how they train, work, and operate. The armor's mostly to fight off lessers who think they can stand up to some real griffon steel, but if you've worn those things before, you know all the chinks in the armor. It'll only work against them when we strike."

"So how will we get in, then?"

"That's something to worry about later. I'll try to set something up according to the plan, and have you move inside right when we start our attack, distracting the guards and leaving Whisper himself up to you. No doubt he'll have an escape plan, but that's where we'll get him: he'll most likely try to effect an escape without us knowing about it amdist the chaos, using his own guards and anything or anyone to deter any possible pursuers."

"You said you had sources inside," Pastor said. "How trustworthy are they?"

"Very. A lot of my informants were already in their position since long before the coup happened. They contacted me of their own accord through my soldiers, and from that, an agreement was reached. They're mostly above suspicion since many of them have airtight alibis, and we trade information using a variety of methods to avoid consistency. Whisper always checks for patterns."

"And what of your own soldiers here? No offense to them," Mendoza said, looking at the door guards, "but how can we be sure that one of them won't just walk up to Whisper or Strongbeak with a list of every single loyalist or information on us?"

"Because it's more than just an honor thing, son. This is the future of the Empire we're talking about here, and a lot of us don't want a damn warmongering tyrant to end up in control of our home. Not to mention that a lot of us actually enjoy having peaceful relations with the ponies... the Ardmis farmer folk were actually a nice bunch, and then we had to send them packing because of the whole coup." He shook his head. "I'm parched! Get some drinks in here!" The guard at the door nodded and opened the grate and whispered something outside, before closing it and returning to his post.

Within a moment, there was a knock at the door, and the guards quickly let in the servant, who nearly dropped his tray at the sight of the heavily-armed Ghosts, their matte black uniforms and ethereal blue visors giving them an otherworldly appearance. He quickly left the drinks on the table before scurrying out the door again.

"Nice to know that we can still make people crap their pants by sight alone," Raymond laughed.

Talbot ignored it, instead taking a sniff of the drink, detecting a waft of fruity scent. Though the Equestrians had edible foodstuffs, he wasn't entirely sure on griffon drinks, though their food seemed to be fine. "What's in this?"

Scarclaw took a long drink. "Just some local liquor, made from fruit from the farmlands a little ways north. It's all good stuff, though." He looked at the bottom of his cup. "Ah, damn, I should have asked for a pitcher."

"Don't worry, boss, I got this," Mendoza said. He moseyed over to the table, pulling his balaclava off over his mouth, before downing the whole drink in a single gulp. "Ah!" He slammed the cup on the table. "Not bad, that's some pretty good stuff, though I could probably go for some with more kick myself."

"Hah! A kid after my own stomach. You humans are just so damn interesting," Scarclaw said. "Anyway, the point of the matter is: you guys are our guillotine. It'll take a while before we can set Whisper up nice and properly, and then you come in and kill him all in one swoop. That means... that, uh, I know you all being soldiers and all, that this isn't going to come nicely to you... you'll probably have to sit tight for a week or two."

"Aw, come on!" Mendoza said. "We just got here, totally ready to kick some ass and take names, and then we get sidelined again?"

Scarclaw held up a... well, claw. "Now, don't get me wrong. I'm going to try to see if I can squeeze you in for anything we do that'll involve some espionage or otherwise. But I don't want Whisper knowing about you all under any circumstances if we can help it."

"Very well," Talbot said. "Can we just allocate a single one of ours for field work, then?"

"Sure. Who did you have in mind?"

"Shell, you're up," Talbot said. "You've got the training; you can do the intel gathering better than any of us can. Scope can set up in the building's spire, and Mendoza... you... don't make any trouble."

"How come I always get benched?" Mendoza whined. "Agh, fine, do whatever. I'll just go toy with my explosives or something. Where do we sleep?"

"We have residence halls just outside the door, down the hallway to the left. Ask the guards over there and they can direct you to your rooms." Mendoza left without a word, nearly slamming the door with force, but then stopped himself and closed it with a quiet thunk.

"Hmm. Even when he's angry, he can't hurt a fly," Raymond said. "Well, unless there's a boom involved in there somewhere..."

"Fuse has always been a little bit antsy when in downtime, sir," Pastor said. "Was that really such a good idea?"

"Don't sweat yourself," Talbot said, taking a sip from his own cup. "The moment I give him the green light to use those rocket pods, he'll be like a kid at Christmas again. And I expect some explosive action once we hit Castshot's territories, or even Red Talon's. Aside from that, he's not the kind that goes AWOL. He's too disciplined for that."

"And with that, I think I'll go join him," Raymond said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all Angry Woodsman here, but this rifle isn't getting any lighter. With any due luck, the accommodations here are as nice as they were back at Ardmis." He saluted, and left the room just as the same servant re-entered with a pitcher, having been called in by the outer guards on Scarclaw's off comment, followed by several shouts of surprise as some of the newly-arrived guards noticed Raymond walking down the hall.

"So..." Scarclaw said, looking to Pastor. "Any ideas in mind?"

"Deploy him on any intelligence gathering operations you have in mind. The Lieutenant here is well-versed in information gathering, and is the only one among my squad who has served with an intelligence bureau as an agent... blacker than black operations, of course."

"Oh, so he's one of those sorts of shades, huh?"

"Shades?" Pastor said, not sure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment.

"It's griffon military slang for those involved in such things... originally meant as an insult, but it stuck. So, your boy's got some real top-notch stuff under his belt, on top of some training to withstand interrogation and torture. And I've seen that fancy mirror magic that you all use... I can definitely work something in for him. Maybe all of you, once in a while, I know how stale it can get when you don't spread your wings every now and then. How's that sound?"

"That can work," Talbot said, standing as the meeting came to a close.

"Very well, then. Now, best you all get along now, there's a lot of planning to be done here." Talbot nodded, and exited the room, Pastor following, as Scarclaw redirected his attention. "Snowfeather! I can't believe you've been standing there this whole time stiffer than a log and quieter than a funeral procession! Go do something else! If I wanted a statue in here, I'd have ordered Sergeant Blinkframe in here a long time ago!"

"But, uncle, I--"

"No 'buts'! The library's just beyond the residence halls, go knock yourself out. Your father trusted me to keep you safe, and that's what I'm going to do, and before you say anything, boy, you're safest here near me, not at Ardmis. They might have sent guards that way and I'm sure they would have recognized you. Now get!" Snowfeather nodded before the outer door guard entered. "Blinkframe, alert my officers and get them here now, on the double! There's work to be done!"




"And that's... that." The D-kit chirped with a small beep, as the view before them glistened with a small shakedown scan from the green box. The profiles of several dozen targets appeared, with some coming and going as the targets within the palace grounds traveled back and forth.

Pastor sat back as Raymond simply stood by, taking in the view on his visor. The lieutenant merely tapped Raymond on the shoulder as he headed back downstairs. "It's all yours now. Don't stay up here too long, don't forget to eat, sleep and crap, all that jazz. You get me, Scope?"

"Yes, sir," Raymond said, already calculating trajectories for eliminating wall guards with the advanced information provided by the D-kit. He'd actually thought about asking Pastor where he'd accrued such a device, but found it simply best not to ask. Perhaps it was just an extra that the brass thought they might needed, since knowing where all the guards were while assaulting a jungle compound would be extremely useful.

"Good. Have an enjoyable evening. And let us know if you think there's anything out of place." Pastor exited down the tall curving stairs from the spire. Griffons couldn't use ladders, so they just merely accommodated their buildings to use flight, or for the flight-impaired, a rather narrow stair system.

There wouldn't be too many problems, considering that the spire actually blended in quite well with the surrounding buildings, as well as being one of many other spires within the large crater slum-city. Unless one knew exactly what they were looking for, and where to find it, any chance of detection within the warehouse spire was nearly zero. That 'nearly' was brought down to a complete zero with the active camouflage, however: with that, it was as if no one was even there.

His mirage form sat down next to the D-kit taking in the whole of the workers and staff coming in and out of the palace itself. How many of those were loyalists? How many swore their fealty to Strongbeak? And within that seemingly small square block of a palace, just where the hell exactly was Whisper?

The D-kit thankfully had high magnification optics, much more stronger than the visor's standard binoculars. With this, he could actually see the small details, like guards conversing casually near a parked wagon, or another guard nearly keeling over from fatigue at the front gate, or even the one on the wall actually doing his job. Raymond's sights with the D-kit shifted to the palace windows, where he noticed several rooms with bookshelves, most likely studies, along with a ground floor kitchen and a dining room. The number of windows alone indicated that it must not have been a large building.

Then--and praise be to DARPA and their inventions--he noticed within one of the studies, a bookshelf swinging open and revealing what appeared to be a hidden passageway much like the one that the loyalists through in their city network. Out appeared a griffon, clad in posh red garb, who merely closed the bookshelf lazily before returning to the desk within the room, picking up a goblet and drinking out of it.

"Well, shit..." Raymond said to himself. He keyed the local comm for squad transmissions. "Talon, you're going to want to see this. Does this damn box have playback on it?"

"Go ahead, Scope," Talbot said, the noise of various happenings in the hideout's dining hall below in the background. "Shell tells me that it has direct playback functionality. Show me what you've got." Raymond keyed a few buttons on the D-kit's integrated system UI, as he quickly rewinded the footage and began it right as the bookshelf opened and the target of interest exited. "Interesting. I'll have to notify Scarclaw about this."

"Think it might be Whisper?" The griffon official was now writing something on his study desk, most likely some sort of new edict or decree. Perhaps one influenced by Whisper to maintain his control over the city itself... domestically, of course. Militarily, it was a complete mess.

"Hard to tell. It might just be the local magistrate... that sounds like the kind of person that Whisper would want to keep in line. Are there any traces of Strongbeak's elites nearby?"

"No, at least as far as I can tell. They might just be standing outside his office, but I can't tell from this point."

"Understood. According to intel, though, I very much highly doubt that would be Whisper, since he's sitting at a location where he can be observed. If anything... he's down in that little hidey-hole of his. Sounds a lot like our line of work if we have to go in and deal with him ourselves."

"Right. Will keep an eye out until then. Scope out."




Unfortunately, not much else happened in the days that followed aside from standard overwatch missions that the Ghosts were deployed on to ensure the safety of Scarclaw's soldiers; it would seem that Whisper was too reluctant to put himself in a position that would incriminate himself. The martial law, however, was further enforced as newer soldiers from up north were sent in to replace the lazy and incompetent guards already in place at Whisper's request. The red-robed griffon, now confirmed to be the magistrate by Scarclaw, had a huge hand in passing the transfer orders.

With that, the city effectively turned into a fortress, as increased military presence and the accompanying brutality became common. Word quickly spread that Carseract was to become a staging ground for the beginning steps of invasion into Equestrian territory, but through official channels, many of the other generals, including Strongbeak, were reluctant to use Carseract as a rallying point, most notably due to its easily breakable defense (the walls, while sturdy, proved to be too stretched to mount an invasion defense properly without allocating thousands just to the walls themselves), and instead voted to mobilize at Aerocem instead, which had the safety of Stratus Highbase and griffon air cavalry.

However, Whisper was still permitted to use Carseract as a base for information gathering on the Equestrians, and many reports coming in through the city were intercepted by loyalist forces were misdirected or altered to provide false information. With this, the griffons now thought that Equestrian numbers were actually far greater than previously thought, while simultaneously thinking that their training had been too lax in general, save for the royal guards, and that it would be easy to trump the Equestrian military with no resistance, which would help the ponies in their defense as the griffons would charge headfirst into battle expecting an easy victory.

Much to Mendoza's amusement, more detailed plans for the battle wagons came in. On the spur of the moment, many of the newer models of the wagon had less armor since the first initial construction due to dwindling resources, making them much easier to destroy with weapons of lesser caliber or even basic explosives, which the corporal was very happy to hear. This information was immediately relayed back to the Equestrian war front, where the officers in charge of planning, in turn, intended to use this to devastating effect.

Underground, however, the numbers of the loyalists began to swell. For security reasons, many of them operated in their own units across the city, while the primary command hideout was protected. Raymond actually sparred with several of the loyalists elites and found them a handful to deal with in close combat. It was with that revelation that Talbot declared that close-quarters combat with griffon soldiers was to be avoided at all costs.

The civilian population's disposition had quickly soured within those few days, and though many still frequented their daily stops, the wary looks towards the steel-eyed guards, especially those from Strongbeak's legion, increased. The guards did not tolerate any infraction, and lots of innocent griffons were unjustly jailed on barely suspect evidence. Some were even executed, much to the horror and rage of the populace, resulting in several small riots. The seeds of dissent had been planted, and the soldiers had to take care to avoid bringing down the tense and barely-veiled malice of the population down upon them.

Finally, through several botched operations, the loyalists and the Ghosts learned that Whisper operated using doubles. Rarely ever did he actually appear in public at all: any rumor that he would be going outside was only another well-dressed suit with a specific set of orders, clueless to their origins. Research and intelligence eventually led to the conclusion that any one of the griffons within the magistrate's palace could be Whisper himself, and trying to move on such circumstantial evidence would only lead to his escape. The whole plan seemed to be at a dead end, until a single officer came forth: a griffon commander who claimed that he could deliver a picture of who the elusive general actually was at a dead drop, in return for a method of escape and protection.

Even more interesting was that he was also on Whisper's suspected turncoats list: the second part of the bundle involved capturing one of Whisper's agents alive, and perhaps glean even more intelligence from him. The message sent by the turncoat commander indicated that the agents never worked alone, but in groups, to prevent any one of them from failing, and to terminate any captured agents to prevent breach of security.

The informant wouldn't allow the dead drop to happen unless Scarclaw was absolutely sure he could be protected. The old general had to concede that not many of his current soldiers, even the elites, were well-trained enough to deal with such a sensitive mission, but the clock was ticking and the window of opportunity slowly began to close, as Scarclaw was quickly swamped with other matters. The drop would have gone unnoticed, as the most important information to Whisper's identity would have disappeared with the eventual capture and execution of the commander, and Whisper would have eventually escaped, setting the plans back to square one as the war would go on unobstructed.

'Would have', of course... until Snowfeather brought the matter to the attention of the Ghosts.
> Matters of Intelligence
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Just thought I'd plug Future Soldier's main theme here.




Harvey woke up that morning to a quiet room, the sole sound of birds chirping accompanying his early morning activities. It had been many days since the Ghosts had left for their assassination and diplomacy mission into the Griffon Empire, and Harvey was left mostly to his own devices, a man of science residing in a world of magic... an interesting case, to say the least.

It was then after a small conversation with Princess Luna that he began compiling a basic textbook of knowledge on humans and their world: culture, politics, mannerisms, history, everything. It was a massive undertaking to behold, naturally, and one that he'd never truly done before; it wasn't as simple as writing a research paper on a subject in his own field.

After outlining every topic that came to him, he began to work on the structure of the book. It would have been far less stressful if he had another person or perhaps even a number of them to point out any other possible topic that he might have missed. He decided, after missing what must have been the whole Library of Congress's worth of history, to condense the basic gist of human history up to the modern age, and decided to focus more on the aspects of the contemporary era instead.

He sat before a huge number of parchment scrawled with dozens of notes, amusing himself with the thought of the lack of pens within this world, until he received a knock on the door. Taking care to put aside his notes for the time being, he answered it, and found a royal guard--not one of the door guards--standing before him.

"Greetings, sir," he said. "The Princesses would like to speak to you at your earliest convenience."

"Well, any time is fine, but please allow me to put my belongings in order first," Harvey said. The guard noticed the table full of study materials and nodded. Harvey went about, quickly closing inkwells and drying his quills, stopping just short of his dresser. He paused and stared at it for a moment.

Within that single dresser sat the suppressed FNP45 Tactical given to him by Captain Talbot. At the beginning, Harvey had scoffed at it: he was no soldier, and he never had a reason to use a weapon in the first place. But in this world, the threat was too real, as was the threat that the enemy also had the capability to invade the land and abode which he called home at the current point in time. If worse came to worst, the gun would be his last line of defense.

He hoped that he would never have to use it.

He donned his cleaned lab coat, a single piece of clothing brought over from his time working with Maynard, which now signified his position. It was strange that ponies of 'science', if they could be called that, also operated using a similar uniform; he'd have to ask them about that sometime.

Walking to the door, he made sure everything was in order before turning to the guard to ask a question. "What sort of matter do the Princesses require me for?"

"I'm not allowed to say, sir. They just said it was extremely important, and that it concerned the war... and that you should speak to them as soon as possible, sir."

He stepped outside and looked up and down the hallway, closing the door behind him and giving a nod to the door guards standing outside. "Very well, then. Please, lead the way."

"Yes, sir." The guard saluted and turned sharply, walking down the red carpeted stone halls as the doctor followed.




The grounds were completely rife with activity now. More royal guards had been called to duty from reserves, and now daily training drills were held as the Equestrian military prepared for war. There was a rather distinct lack of petitioners... unsurprising, as Celestia must have ordered a curfew, and perhaps even a rationing of resources to conserve for the upcoming conflict, given the food that Harvey had over the past few days.

Even walking through the halls, the presence of the royal guards was stifling. Unlike the situation as it had been before, every single doorway--save for the unnecessary ones like the broom closet, which only had one guard--had a two-guard retinue. Many of them had arrived after the departure of the Ghosts, and so viewed Harvey as a strange curiosity. The new arrivals, however, chose not to ask, merely assuming him to be a confidant, of a species much like a minotaur or a buffalo.

The human and guard pair proceeded through the labyrinthine grounds, eventually happening upon a large set of high-rising double doors, guarded with a four-guard retinue, as a number of non-military ponies constantly poured in and out of it.

"Here we are, sir," the guard said, saluting. Harvey gave a nod to him and proceeded inside.

"...yes, over here and here, Captain. We need more supplies. The entrenchments are almost prepared and the heavy ballistae are on their way from Manehattan," Luna said, indicating towards several regions close to the northern pass. "Ah, Doctor Harvey. Thank you for joining us. If you would follow me, please. Captain Shining, I shall leave you to these duties." Shining nodded and continued Luna's task of planning on the war map.

Luna stepped away and walked around the table, nodding her head at a door and indicating for Harvey to follow. Harvey himself received several tense glances from the scribes running about, but followed her through the number of rooms, eventually stopping in a single room where Celestia sat, speaking with a number of royal guards.

"...and your numbers are correct, yes?"

"Yes. Contact with the griffon loyalists has been made, and they have sent us information that implicate that the battle wagons used by the griffons may be less formidable than previously thought. In addition, they have sent word that a task force sent from Equestria is aiding them. Is this true, Princess?" Given his answer, Harvey figured that not all of the officers were entirely aware of the Ghosts.

Celestia nodded. "Indeed, Lieutenant. I have sent a small group charged with the task of sabotaging the griffon war machine, and perhaps even stonewall their war effort entirely. I am glad to hear that they are making good progress so far."

"Will that be all, Princess?" the lieutenant asked.

"Yes. Proceed to your command post for your orders." The lieutenant nodded and the group of ponies turned to leave, giving surprised looks as Harvey stood next to Luna at the door. "Doctor Harvey. Thank you for taking the time to speak to us. Guards, if you would." Two royal guards nodded and closed the door to the room.

"You wanted to speak to me about something, Your Majesty?" Harvey said.

"I apologize for interrupting you in the middle of your work, but we would like to extend to you a position of counsel within our most trusted officers," Celestia said.

Harvey thought for a moment. "With all due respect, Princess, I'm not a soldier. I don't think I'm particularly cut out for this task."

"True. But you do have experience with how they work, do you not? We hope that your insight into human military affairs would give us an extra opinion on the enemy's--and our own--military tactics. From what we have seen, your species seems to be exceptionally knowledgeable on the issue."

"Well, I suppose that's true... would that be all that I would be needed for, then?"

"Indeed. When we convene, you will be escorted to the war room alongside the officers, where we will deliberate on various courses of action or domestic issues. You will not be obligated to give an opinion, but it would be much appreciated. But more importantly is the task of intelligence..."

"Intelligence?" Harvey asked. "Are those positions not already filled?"

Luna nodded. "They are, Doctor, but we believe that your position with the Ghosts will aid us immensely in providing us information on how the Ghosts will proceed with their mission. You seem to have a decent knowledge of how they operate, and their modes of operation are quite foreign, even to our own military. Should you choose to accept, you will work with our intelligence officers to provide a report to my sister and I on the affairs within the griffon homeland."

Scratching his head, Harvey wondered what the Ghosts had been up to since they began. "Well, if that's the case, then I would be more than happy to help. I assume the Ghosts have been rather forthcoming in their results so far?"

"Yes. As you could tell from my prior conversation, they not only seem to have made contact with the loyalists, they have also gained their help. Quillfeather's information was very much helpful in this. As Captain Talbot stated, it would have been much more complicated without loyalist support," Celestia said. "We have already established basic communications with them, and are exchanging information."

"Well, that sounds absolutely grand, Your Majesty. I hope you'll take my word when I say those boys are the best in the business. So, where do I begin, then?"

Celestia stood and walked towards Harvey. "Right now, actually, the meeting is about to begin. If you and Luna would follow, please." The guards opened the door and the three proceeded back to the war room, where it had been cleared of unnecessary staff. Captain Shining and a number of other officer ponies sat waiting as they took their seats.




By the time Harvey had exited the room, the sun had already begun to set. Luna had excused herself near the end of the meeting to tend to the affair of lowering the moon, something that he was still intrigued by, even though Luna had demonstrated the whole process to him. That only made him even more confused in the process, but he thought it was a nice touch that the world was essentially in a controlled environment thanks to the Princesses. No scorching hot summers or high tides here... unless the Princesses wished it, of course.

The meeting itself had panned out in a standard fashion. Though Celestia had wanted Harvey for second thoughts, it seemed that the ponies were already quite militarily capable, especially with Captain Shining leading most of the planning. Their courses of action were sound, and focused mostly on defensibility within the western part of Equestrians lands, while also concerning themselves with the removal of civilians from larger settlements.

Harvey had noticed that there was a special commission to install ballistae batteries on top of the Canterlot castle walls. Probably a wise decision if the griffons decided to assault the capital directly instead of harassment; the airships could circumvent the frontline Equestrian ballistae if they played their cards right, and there weren't any man--or pony--portable anti-aircraft weaponry available, as far as he knew. The wall defenses would be more than enough to fend off any direct strikes.

"Ah, Doctor Harvey." Harvey turned around to find Captain Shining walking out of the room, a procession of other officers exiting behind him. "Princess Luna has told me that you've accepted her invitation to aid us. On top of planning, I'm also in charge of the intelligence division. We've gotten some new reports in, so let's head on down and see if we can glean anything from them."

"Down?" Harvey asked. "It wouldn't happen to be in a dungeon, would it?" he asked, stifling a laugh.

"No, it's nothing like that," Shining chuckled. "That's just the old rumors they spread around to scare the ponies who work outside of the branch. It's actually much less intimidating. If you'll follow me, please."

Shining led him to down several more halls, away from the more public places, and stopped before a large painting located in the middle of a completely nondescript dead-end hallway, with barely any furnishings at all save the painting itself.

"What, is it behind the painting?" Harvey wondered.

Shining shook his head. "Actually, it isn't. But I like looking at this painting every time I stop by it. The actual door is somewhere else. Don't you think the gilded sword at the bottom left corner is just fantastic?" he turned to smile at Harvey before walking straight behind him and through the plain wall, leaving the dumbfounded scientist to stare in awe.

"Now there's some witchcraft and wizardry if I ever did see it..." Harvey muttered, before following him inside. As soon as he entered the hallway, the doorway behind him sealed itself with a stone wall, reappearing with a fading effect. "Very impressive. I'm sure a lot of the people back home would want to get something like that."

"Voice-activated, passcode-protected magical barrier, protected by illusion magic," Shining pointed out. "Now, let's head downstairs. Don't worry, it's not a dungeon..." he laughed.

They proceeded down a long flight of stairs, before reaching the bottom and entering through a door embedded into the side of the hall. Within sat a large atrium with a number of dark-armored ponies, which Harvey recognized as Luna's Night Guard, attending to various jobs like fixing up equipment and armor, poring over information reports, and plotting out supposed enemy movements on a large war map not unlike the one upstairs.

"Welcome to the Sanctum of Night, Doctor," Shining said. "This is, officially, Princess Luna's Night Guard headquarters, and it serves as our intelligence center for the war effort."

"Impressive. You know, despite the ponies' initial givings being peace-oriented, you sure don't mess around when it boils down to the serious stuff," Harvey said.

Shining shrugged. "Well, Princess Celestia has always had a serious concern with the safekeeping of Equestria. Just because we're mostly peaceful doesn't mean we can't fight, and she's always wanted to keep it that way by fooling our enemies into thinking that our military comprises of a bunch of shiny-armored stallions strutting around in parade march."

"So, you wanted me to--" Harvey was cut off as a unicorn guard approached them with a floating scroll, which Harvey took. He unrolled the scroll and began to examine it. "Well, this is the most recent one, you say?"

"It is," Shining confirmed. "If the Ghosts manage to pull this one off, and take out General Gale Whipser, we'll have our first major stake in the war, maybe before it even begins."

"Well, I'll be damned," Harvey said, reading through the rest of it. "Well, I can't say that they won't succeed. If anything, knowing how they work, they'll try to leverage the situation towards their favor before they even notice it."

"That's the problem, you see..." Shining said. "...the Ghosts don't know about it yet. We only received this correspondence from the griffon loyalists on a chance basis from a general all-inclusive report. The operation only puts in an outline for how it would proceed, and we're not even sure if the Ghosts or the loyalists are completely aware of the situation."

"It's a defector with extremely important information on the identity of an as-of-yet unknown enemy general!" Harvey said. "Why wouldn't they act on this as soon as possible?"

"According to our reports from the city of Carseract, where Gale Whisper is headquartered at," Shining said, "there's been an increasing number of riots from the general populace against the griffon military. It could be that they're far too busy dealing with that to notice or concern themselves with the issue."

"Is there anything we can do about this? The correspondence says the timeframe for this is extremely small, and even then, the defector wants secure protection before he'll relent to anything," Harvey said, pointing at the specific part.

Shaking his head, Shining levitated over another scroll and read it. "From what our scouts say at the borders, it'll take several days before our own agents can deliver the letter to the city. It's under martial law, which means increased military presence, both inside and outside, and they've reported more military units from the capital of Tesseraka being transferred in to maintain order."

"You'd think the ensuing chaos would make it easier to enter..." Harvey said.

"Anyone else would think that, but Carseract has huge walls which make it a pain to enter through any way other than the gates. From what I read here..." Shining said, squinting at the report he was reading. "...Gale Whisper has become increasingly paranoid and installed multiple deterrents to prevent intruders from entering. Sewers have been secured with gates, windows have been barred, the works."

"So, can't we simply just hazard a transfer by using one of the pegasus Night Guard?" Harvey said, looking to the busy guards.

"No, we can't," Shining responded. "We can transfer it quickly to the borders, easily within half a day, but the problem lies in bringing it into the city: the griffons will definitely have eyes out for any pony intruders, and anypony that we send will most likely be killed or taken prisoner. We have to rely on the loyalists located on towns near the border to do it, and even then, they work slowly, since they can't act too fast or suspiciously and blow their cover."

"Damn," Harvey said. "If only things were as simple..."

"I can do it," a deep voice resonated throughout the chamber. The Night Guard looked around, wondering who had made the statement, as not even their own sounded so intimidating. "If it pleases the captain, I can deliver the message to Carseract." A lone armored griffon stepped forth from another room, covered in ornate gold-plated armor.

"Ah, Sergeant Bloodfury," Shining said. "He's part of the Griffon Empire's Imperial Guard, protectors of the Emperor. We can trust him; he was with the griffon royal family when they crossed the borders," he said, noticing Harvey's apprehensive expression. "Don't worry, we've worked with him several times before in the past. He can be trusted."

"Damn right I can," Bloodfury said. "If it puts us one step closer to putting a blade through Strongbeak's gullet, I'm all for it." He pulled off his helmet and put it on the table next to him. "It'll be easy to infiltrate the borders. All Imperial Guard wear their helmets at all times, and only the Griffon Emperor knows our names and what we look like. If you need me to deliver a message, I'll do it for you."

"What about running into enemy griffons?" Harvey asked. "Can you take them on by yourself?"

"Can I?" Bloodfury laughed. "Not even the General of the Bastion has griffons trained like the Imperial Guard. I could probably best half a company running around in that armor of theirs. I should know, I've worn it. I know where to stab where it hurts. Besides, if anyone gets in my way, I'll just pound them into the ground."

"Do you know how to contact the loyalists within Carseract?" Shining asked, floating away his scroll to a table with a number of boxes. A guard took the scroll and placed it within one of the boxes before returning to sort out a large pile next to him.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he said, scratching the scar that he bore on the right side of his face. "But I know enough from the intelligence reports. Carseract's a huge hole in the ground, and if they're already instigating riots, it shouldn't be too hard to find them. Besides, I know a few safehouses there that lead into the underground tunnel network. They're probably set up inside those."

"According to this report," Harvey said, holding up the rolled-up report in his right hand, "the leader should be well-known among loyalists. They say he's Imperial Guard himself, actually."

"Yeah, old Scarclaw. He was a great general, back in his days. Practically staved off the whole dragon invasion just through his presence alone. They broke through the lines on the north wall during the Battle of Northern Reach Keep, but he rallied the defenders faster than the Emperor would receive a blessing when he sneezed. If any griffon can lead a revolution straight into the heart of the Empire, it's Scarclaw. He holds major clout throughout the Empire."

"Well, talk about a coincidence. Why are you here, then?" Shining asked. "I thought all the Guard were to return back to the Empire after their escort."

"Most of them, not all," Bloodfury said. "You don't question the ambassador's orders to protect the royal family until they reach Canterlot when he's on the ground bleeding out. They might have gotten the jump on the Emperor's retinue at the time, but believe me when I say that we put those traitors to the test when we made our way out of Tesseraka."

"You fought your way out? From what the Princess said, it sounded like the royal family was secreted away through some hidden exit."

Bloodfury shook his head. "No, it wasn't anything like that. Somehow, Strongbeak got wind of the escape routes and our soldiers there were besieged right when the coup began, so we grabbed the royal family, stuck them in a carriage, and made a run for it. And let me tell you, running around in a carriage is not secret or quiet, at all." He gave a deep laugh. "The entire Legion of the Bastion was hot on our tails, but we cut down each and every single one of those bastards as we fled through the streets. Never underestimate an Imperial Guard."

"And what of the Emperor? He's alive, isn't he?" Harvey asked.

Bloodfury looked at Harvey with what was best described as amusement. "A lot of non-griffons have never seen Emperor Arcus before, I wager. He's easily more than twice my size, a beast of a griffon... as expected from his own lineage. Last I heard from those that fled from the throne room, as soon as Strongbeak launched his coup and killed the throne room guard, the Emperor practically flattened at least a whole company before they managed to subdue him. Subdue, of course, being a loose term, as our most esteemed leader tore apart half the group ordered to restrain him, too. Probably locked him up at the Bastion now."

"We had intended to rescue him. With any due luck, he'll still be alive when we can still do so."

Bloodfury strolled around the war map, stopping at the north-facing end to look at the capital of the Empire. "Not even Strongbeak is stupid enough to touch him with a spear. The best they could probably do is lock him up in a steel-plated room and throw away the key. He's had more than a few attempts on his life before, and it's going to take nothing short of a giant guillotine to kill him... assuming you can hold him still long enough to do it."

"So... he's a rather tough griffon to kill."

"Putting it lightly, yes. He'll be fine without us..." Bloodfury leaned in closer, so only Shining and Harvey could hear. "Don't tell anyone else about this, but Scarclaw and the Emperor did a sort of test in the past, one which Strongbeak is now running parallel to himself, actually. You see, the Emperor was actually curious as to how well he would fare if he actually got... you know, captured. So Scarclaw and the Imperial Guard volunteered to be his test group, and put him away in the Lockbox, the most secured part of the Bastion."

"That sounds rather... intriguing, actually," Harvey said. "A test to see if he could escape from imprisonment?"

Bloodfury nodded. "It was an absolute one-side victory... on his side, of course. You ever see any pony or griffon punch straight through steel? The Emperor can. He practically swatted us away like flies and walked out the Lockbox as if it were his own front door. It's probably the only place in the whole world to keep him locked away, though; normal jail cells will result in either a collapsed wall or bent bars, and a whole lot of dead guards."

"So why hasn't he done anything yet?"

"He was captured when we fled. The information that his family is safe hasn't gotten to him yet, and that's probably the only thing keeping him in there. He thinks Strongbeak is holding them hostage, and that might actually be what Strongbeak is telling him, for all we know. Otherwise, Arcus would fly into a rage and go straight for Strongbeak's throat... and not even the best of our generals can stand up to him in a duel, much less the chaos of battle."

"...and the Emperor is in the Lockbox, isn't he? Strongbeak's put him in the Lockbox?" Harvey put the scroll down at the edge of the war map and looked down at the topography. "The way you put it, the Emperor himself could win this war by himself."

"He gets wind that his family's alive and safe, and he will, which is why Strongbeak wants to lock him in a place so dangerous that not even the Princesses would dare to look for him... too bad he didn't know about the Emperor's little test. Now, enough talk about that," Bloodfury said, shifting loudly in his armor. "You need someone to deliver a message to Carseract, and I'm a griffon. Let's make this work."

"Wait, wait..." Harvey held up a hand. "Why hasn't Strongbeak just killed the Emperor again?"

"Because the official word on the street is that the Emperor has been 'overthrown', not executed. Besides, it was like I said: he's too powerful to kill, and the fearful rumor is that he was stuck with a dozen spears in the throne room just to incapacitate him... only it didn't. It only made him angrier, and then Strongbeak had to work his little false blackmail and get him to stand down."

"I'll go finish the preparations for the trip. We have several posts out at the borders, and we'll place you closest to the nearest loyalist town," Shining said. "From there, you can meet up with them and move on to Carseract. Will that do?"

Bloodfury nodded, and Shining walked through one of the many doorways, going through a room that had racks of weapons within. "Yeah, but I'm going to have to ditch this armor. I get caught wearing this and I'm as good as dead. No problems, though, I can work just as well outside of my armor. So who am I to deliver this message to?"

"The loyalists, preferably Scarclaw himself, or scribe Snowfeather, who went with our Equestrian task group to make contact with the loyalists," Harvey answered. "Given what we have, however, it seems that they've been successful."

"Snowfeather, the ambassador's son? Well, I'll be... and an Equestrian task group in the Empire?" Bloodfury asked, his head tilting slightly with curiosity. "Ponies would stick out like a broken wing over there."

"Well..." Harvey paused. "That's because they're not ponies. They're humans, like myself."

"Huh. Well, there's a first time for everything. Hope you humans are up to snuff on the whole fighting thing, 'cause there's going to be a lot of it. But your kind seems a bit scrawny for combat, don't you think?"

"The operatives in place are thoroughly trained in the arts of war, though their standard operations involve ambushing the enemy with superior positioning, intelligence, and firepower. We aren't very well built for direct confrontations like you griffons are."

"Point taken. Fight the battle in a way that benefits you," Bloodfury agreed, turning as Shining arrived back at the war room. "So, sir, have the arrangements been made?"

Shining nodded. "They have. You'll be leaving immediately, and you'll be bringing the orders with you. They'll be sealed away with a number of books that'll be transported with you, but specifically, it'll be located within a copy of Griffon Agricultural Techniques. When you reach the town, you'll enter Carseract through the most common method: by supply caravan. From there, you can contact the loyalists."

"Sounds good," Bloodfury said. "I'll get the message to either Scarclaw or Snowfeather for confirmation, and from there,  the task force can aid in relocating the defector. Anything else you want to add?"

Harvey raised his hand for a moment, only awkwardly lowering it after realizing that he needn't have done so. "Well... if you could, I think it would be best if you can aid the task group in bringing in the defector. It sounds like the loyalists are pretty busy with the current state of affairs, and the defector will probably want a griffon contact to ensure his safety."

"Agreed," Bloodfury said, removing his armor plates and storing them on a nearby table. "Military rules are that we don't trust anyone other than our own. If a bunch of humans show up with vague claims of working for the loyalists, he'll most likely make a run for it, and we'll have spent all that effort for naught. Assuming he isn't already being hunted, of course. We keep close tabs on our own. He might just run himself into a griffon blade if we mess up. I'll see what I can do to help."

"Thank you very much," Harvey ended, as Bloodfury threw a pack over his back. A Night Guard appeared with the books to be transported, and stored them within the pouches.

Bloodfury nodded to both Harvey and Shining before making for the exit. "Strength and honor be with you all," he said.

"Ah, one more thing, Sergeant..." Harvey asked.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Is Bloodfury a name you received at birth, or...?"

The griffon sergeant chuckled, shaking his head. "All the griffon veterans who successfully complete their Imperial Guard training have their identities wiped clean, and we all get to pick a name for ourselves. So, no, this isn't my birth name, though I can see how it might be taken as such."

"Ah... well, aside from that, I believe you should know who the leader of the task group is. He goes by the name of Captain Talbot."

"Thanks for the information, sir," Bloodfury nodded. "I'll be sure to speak with him as soon as I get the go-ahead from Scarclaw."

"Very well, then... good luck," Harvey said. Bloodfury disappeared through the door as a number of Night Guard followed him through, taking him to the balcony where a chariot awaited to hasten him to the borders. "Well, Captain Shining... I can only hope that we aren't too late."

"I hope so, too, Doctor. Now, if you don't mind, we have a number of other reports from the loyalists we believe you should take a look at, especially with things concerning the latest griffon military inventions." Shining walked with Harvey to a table, where he then levitated over a giant pile of scrolls half as tall as Harvey was.

Harvey sighed. "Well, the book can always wait until later..."
> The Defector
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Alright, which one of you assholes replaced my combat knife with a butter knife?" Mendoza asked, walking into the bunkroom as he rubbed his stubble. "We have the big event coming up tonight, and I want to look my best, and you can't do that when your shaving utensil is duller than guard duty. So, come on, 'fess up, who did it?"

Talbot, who was sitting at the only table in the room, pulled out a combat knife and stabbed it into the tabletop. Raymond smirked as he continued cleaning his rifle, while Pastor merely looked away and took another sip out of his wooden cup.

Mendoza stood unflinching. "Right. I knew that. Left it at the mess hall, didn't I, boss?"

"This is United States government property, Fuse," Talbot said humorously. "You should know better than to lose Uncle Sam's oh-so-valued Army combat knives."

"Yeah, yeah," Mendoza said, swiping the knife off the table. "Tax money and all that."

Mendoza stepped around an entering griffon as he ventured off to the bathrooms to shave. "I assume you must be the Equestrian task group sent to eliminate Whisper?" he said, making no effort to hide the scar on the right side of his face.

"That depends," Talbot said. "Who might you be?"

"I'm Sergeant Bloodfury, of the Empire's Imperial Guard. I was told by Doctor Harvey and Shining Armor, with permission from General Scarclaw, to speak with Captain Talbot."

"That is I," Talbot said. "What's your business? Are you with the security detail that Scarclaw is deploying alongside us?"

"You are, in fact, correct, Captain," Bloodfury said. "I am in charge of the small Imperial Guard unit that has been tasked with escorting the defector safely to this location. The general said you'd be performing observation duties for the mission?"

"Sort of. While you take the information on Gale Whisper's identity and the defector, we'll be on the watch for any agents that Whisper might have deployed on his tail. Our hope is that we can eliminate all but one and attempt to gain further information from him. To facilitate that, Lieutenant Pastor," Talbot said, nodding towards his second-in-command at the back of the room, "will be performing the interrogation. Our intention is to learn the exact location that Whisper is hiding at: if we can take the direct route straight to him and take him out, then it'll be all the more easier for us."

"A good plan. And in the chance he might try to escape? Or if the identity is incorrect?"

"He won't escape, not with all this going on right now. Scarclaw has his own watching the gates for anything suspicious, especially all the wagons and carriages coming and going. Unless Whisper has the ability to split his body into tiny pieces, stuff them into bags, and then reassemble himself afterwards, he isn't going anywhere. And if we're wrong... our considered last resort is to simply destroy the whole compound with explosives to ensure complete destruction, but Scarclaw has already decided against that. If we're wrong, then the most we can do is just shoot every single griffon inside... and I'd rather try to avoid that."

"Then we shall deal with the situation as it arises, then," Bloodfury said. "Your attire seems to indicate that you belong to a group."

"Yeah. We're the Ghosts."

"Ghosts... quite befitting from what Doctor Harvey has told me. You work by maintaining superiority on the battlefield."

Talbot nodded. "Yep. 'Swift, silent, invisible' is our motto... 'Only the dead fight fair' is our unofficial one."

"Ah, you fight from the shadows, then? Such things are frowned upon in the Empire, but even we can see the use in such tactics. I read up on the plan when I arrived earlier, though I had a general idea from what I learned back in Equestria."

"You were in Equestria?" Pastor asked. "And you spoke with the good doctor before coming here? How's he doing, by the way? We haven't seen him for a while."

"He's fine. He was working with the Equestrians on their intelligence reports before I departed. I don't ever recall seeing you humans here before. Have you always been around here?"

Pastor put his cup on the table, the contents of the vessel devoid of liquids. "Uh, actually, we're not from around here. I guess you can say that we're kind of... stuck... here, for now."

"Hmm. Well, I guess that was too much to expect. So you're shades, huh? We don't get a lot of those sorts of fighters around here. Griffon fighting's mostly all combat on the open field, direct and brutal. But we can't deny the effectiveness of having soldiers like you around... especially since it's how that damn Strongbeak got the jump on us."

"It's a necessary evil, especially where we're from, sergeant," Talbot said. "Aside from that, I expect we'll be moving out soon?"

Bloodfury nodded. "Indeed. We just have to wait for the signal from the commander to our scouts, and then we can--"

"Sir!" A griffon scout scrambled through the narrow hallways and stopped just outside the doorway. "The signal! He's given the signal!"

Bloodfury looked at the Ghosts. "Looks like it's time to move."




"We'll split here," Bloodfury said, hopping out of the wagon as he and his two cohorts prepared to meet the defector. "Good luck." He shut the wagon's doors, and the Ghosts were whisked away to their entry point.

"Comms up, check," Pastor said, double-checking all the Ghosts' live local feeds for their information systems. "D-kit reads a number of targets approaching from the palace. He must have tried to get out unnoticed, but failed."

"Total number?" Talbot asked.

"Five, including the defector. I fully expect them to be the agents that were spoken of in the report. Location seems to indicate that this area is beyond guard jurisdiction, as well as frequency of civilian visits. I'd say we wouldn't have to worry about collateral damage, but let's try to keep that down to a minimum."

"Right. Anvil, take to the roofs and maintain your positions. Engage at will if anything appears out of place. We can't risk losing the defector or any of the loyalists."

"Yes, sir," the other three responded in unison.

The four split off into various directions, breaking down into a quick crouch as their active camouflage systems began to kick in. Using the enhanced power from their exoskeletons, they quickly hopped on top of the roofs, taking up positions at the highest vantage points they could find, their tech-silhouetted shapes of their forms appearing on the others' crosscoms.

Pastor sat on top of a small window protrusion, looking over into the courtyard where the meeting was to take place, taking special care to be alert for any of the telltale signs of possible ambushes like he'd learned from his time outside the Ghosts: tails, suspicious activities, even the fact that the defector might not even be a defector, but bait for a trap. Activating his magnetic goggles, however, seemed to dispel the worries, as he quickly made out four cloth-robed griffon forms hopping on to the roof tiling below the Ghosts.

"Look at that," Mendoza said. "All those throwing knives on them... lights 'em up brighter than a Christmas tree."

"Mark targets and prepare to fire," Talbot said. Three light-blue lines appeared on the crosscom feed as they lined up their sights on the heads of the agents... all except for Pastor. "Shell, you on to something?"

"I definitely am, sir..." Pastor said, staring down at the back of the griffon agent underneath him. "Clear for fire. This one's mine."

"Affirmative. Clear for fire." The imperceptible wisp of sound could be heard as three of the griffon agents were taken out, leaving the only one alive to Pastor for interrogation.

Shouldering his MR8, Pastor drew his combat knife, determined to make the agent sweat. Given from what he'd learned of this world, counter-espionage agents were almost unheard of. He was wondering how well griffon military training accounted for the 'enhanced' interrogation techniques coined by Third Echelon's best field operative. Hesitating no further, he let his exoskeleton do the work, leaping high into the air with a small thump, aiming his trajectory for the hapless griffon.

The black-masked agent heard the thump of the boots, and turned around to look above him, his eyes widening as he witnessed what appeared to be a visage of death, wreathed in fading mirror magic and clothed in black, flying towards him. He was barely able to take a single breath before the Ghost slammed down on top of him, forcing his body to slam into the rooftop with a crack due to the extreme weight and force.

Pastor gave him no reprieve. He quickly locked his griffon target in a chokehold, pulling his throat up and back hard to prevent his limbs from being given the leeway to move. The knife he drew slowly found its way to the griffon's throat, as he kept his right knee into the back of the griffon's back.

"Gnh--gah--help, there--!" The griffon barely choked out the words before Pastor tightened his hold, turning the griffon's face away from him to avoid showing himself any longer than he had to. The winged agent flapped his limbs and wings futilely, the full weight of the Ghost's kit weighing down upon him along with the pressure directed at his body. It was fortunate that the exoskeleton negated most of the equipment's encumbrance from the Ghosts, making it that much easier for them to operate.

"Shut up. I've got questions, and you've got answers. Play nice, and you might live to see tomorrow." Pastor pushed the knife tight against his throat for emphasis, earning an alarmed squeal from the agent. "Do I make myself clear?"

"You'll regret this! Strongbeak will--AGHHH!" Pastor slammed the sole of his unoccupied heavy boot into the span of the griffon's left wing, resulting in a sickening crunch as the bones within fractured and muscles were torn.

"I'm the one giving the threats here, so start talking. I want to know where Whisper's location is within that nice little palace he's got there. Or even better: why don't you just straight up tell me who he is?"

"Gnh... go screw yourself," the griffon coughed. He screamed again when Pastor brought his boot down harder on the broken wing, twisting it with even more crunches.

"Go ahead. Scream all you want. The riots are going on. There are no guards here. It's just you and me, all alone in this little spot in the city with all this dissent and chaos around us. I'd say it sounds romantic, but you're not my type. Besides... I think your right wing would look good with a little bit of tar."

"Aw... crap...! No, I like my... agh, wings! Please, stop! I'll--I'll tell you anything you want!" The griffon's voice was wrought with panic and fright... Pastor figured that they must not have a lot of experience on how to deal with enemy counter-espionage agents, and the position he had the griffon in made it impossible to escape, doubly so now that his wing was crippled.

"Now that's more like it," he said, removing his ironclad grasp on his wing, but retaining his knife and chokehold. "Now, tell me who Whisper is. Which one of those bastards running around the palace grounds is he?"

"I... don't know! His orders to us... are always... through letters! He never shows himself! I swear that I don't know!"

"Then what else do you know about him?"

"He... it's been said that he operates on... doubles. Any griffon on the inside could be him, even one of us! But... we all know the truth... he'd never put himself in danger... he likes to be in a position where he has all the cards..."

"So that rules out the possibility of any of the lower soldiers, then," Pastor said. "Helpful." Giving a cursory glance to his crosscom, the meeting still hadn't started, and the area was still devoid of all other targets. Talbot must have told Bloodfury to hold off on giving the all-clear until his interrogation was complete to avoid showing themselves to the defector. "What about his location?"

"He... well... he spends a lot of time in the war room below the palace... but that place is full of guards... I think he retires to his own quarters in the back..."

"You don't say? Well, that's certainly helpful."

"Gah... what the tar are you?"

"Your worst nightmare."

"Pff... laugh all you want... the insurrectionists won't win..."

"And any nation dealing with infighting never lasted long enough to win wars," Pastor said, sheathing his knife. "Got any other interesting tidbits you'd like to point out?"

"That's... all I know, I swear... seriously, what the tar are you, anyway?"

"A spectre of death itself, a creature that fights its war in a manner more fearsome than anything in this world... I'm a human," Pastor responded, pulling out his sidearm. "Thank you for your cooperation." The griffon attempted to say something, but was cut abruptly short as Pastor fired his suppressed handgun directly into the back of his unprotected head. "No witnesses, sorry." He dragged the body out of sight behind the window protrusion. "Shell to Talon, I have the information. Clear for go, over."

"Affirmative, clear for go. Giving the security detail the green light for signal," Talbot said. There was the sound of metal clanging, roughly similar to the sound of pans and pots. Bloodfury entered the small courtyard, his bodyguard detail observing from the buildings nearby.

An armored griffon wearing a blood red cloak appeared on the other side, looking up at the rooftops as he entered. He approached Bloodfury and exchanged a nod.

"Are you the security detail I was promised?" he asked.

"Yes, I am, Commander..."

"...Fellwyre. I was the original commander of the garrison here before the General came in and took over."

"Fellwyre? I thought you were a loyalist."

"I am, but my rank put me in a position where I wasn't able to contact the movement for months, being stuck inside that damn compound of his. Only lower ranks are allowed outside, and anyone else holding some sort of importance is kept inside with Strongbeak's elites watching over us at all times. Anyway, there's no doubt Whisper must be sending his soldiers after me now."

"We took the liberty of dealing with them before you arrived," Bloodfury said, looking around the seemingly empty rooftops. "There were several, but we managed to get them all."

"Is that so...? Well, let's not waste any more time here. First, I'm sure you'll want this..." He produced a small scroll from underneath his armor and handed it over to Bloodfury. "The visual identity of Whisper is in there. Keep it safe. Now, I believe I was promised escape?"

"Indeed, sir. We'll be escorting you back to our base, where you can speak with our leader in private."

"Excellent, let's not tarry."




"Tracking across rooftops now. Maintain minimal contact." Talbot hopped across a gap and landed softly. Anvil Squad was trailing the loyalist group from the rooftops, and they had taken to moving into alleyways and underneath passage to avoid the gaze of the guards.

"D-kit registers all clear on activity," Pastor said, his voice lined with an undertone of concern.

"Got something on your mind, Shell?" Talbot asked.

"Yeah, just one: it was too easy. Whisper's identity is something really important to him. Why send just four agents after him? He either expects the loyalists to not believe him, or he's got something else up his sleeve."

"Maybe he's trying to put the loyalists into thinking they have him."

"That's what I'm thinking, sir. In any case, I don't trust that commander. We should steer clear of him when we're back at base."

"Understood, Shell. I know Scarclaw's already got a security detail for our section of the base, but I think I'll have him turn it up a bit during our guest's stay. Truth be told, I don't really trust him either."

"Never trust spooks. Especially ones who double-cross," Raymond added. "This guy just has trouble written all over him. And I don't like him. Permission to establish observation, sir."

"Do it when you have the free time, but not now. We're on security detail. Heads up, we are breaking visual contact with the group." Talbot stopped and looked over the area from his current vantage point: it was a busy city street that arched upwards, and the loyalist group was about to pass into a tunnel underneath it, far from the sight of any guards or civilians. The Ghosts would move to the other side and continue tracking them when they exited. "Maneuver to the other side."

They began to cross over the single shingled bridge that led over the passageway when Mendoza interrupted. "Uh, sir, I got some questionable targets down here. Hanging around in cloaks and hoods and all that near the entrance of the tunnel."

Talbot stopped midway and looked down to see a pair of griffons suspiciously lingering around the tunnel entrance, whispering to each other. "Possible targets. Fuse, you're the closest. Disengage from trailing route and neutralize if necessary."

"Yes, sir." Mendoza quietly descended down into the dank alleyway and positioned himself in a firing spot. "I can hear them, sir. Patching it through now."

"But what if they're waiting for us? What if he tipped them off?"

"Ah, stop your whining. We go in now and jump them, like the orders said to do."

"But--"

"I said stop your whining. Whisper wants those loyalists dealt with, and drawing them into the open like this is one of the best ways."

"They're Imperial Guard."

"So? We have the advantage of surprise. If we go in and jump two of them before they notice, we can capture the third for interrogation. Now shut up and follow me."

"Well, I've heard enough," Mendoza said, scoring a headshot on both of them, his cover maintained from his shadowed firing position and suppressed MR8. "Tangos eliminated, returning to trailing path." His camouflage quickly reactivated, and he silently made his way back up to the rooftops through a series of rungs and outcroppings.

Bloodfury's group and the commander exited soon after, making for one of the many loyalist bases in the city, though for the purposes of this mission, the one at the outskirts of the Market District was their destination. Scarclaw already had misgivings on trusting a known enemy commander, and made the rendezvous in a place that wouldn't compromise the home base.

"Target's in sight. Return to shadowing positions," Talbot ordered. Crossing the bridge, the four Ghosts split up and returned to their spaced-out box formation spread as they moved to keep the informant's group within the center for maximum overwatch.

There was the din of melee battle, as several plumes of smoke rose from the Military District in the distance. Griffon aerial units circled around the skies over the battlezone, swooping in and out as they dealt with the rioters alongside the soldiers on the ground. It was one of many riots that the city experienced, one that would hardly be the last in the days to come.

"Objective in sight. Red-roofed building with forge sign hanging out front," Pastor said, taking up the front right of the formation. "No enemies sighted." They followed the lowering rooftops towards ground level, almost ending up on the same level as the griffon group when an assailant attacked.

"Die, you traitor!" the griffon assassin shouted, coming up behind Talbot and jumping over him and off the roof, flaring his wings as he glided for Fellwyre with a knife in his claws. "Whisper sends his regards - guh!" He was cut short as Bloodfury adeptly produced a throwing dagger and sent it flying straight into his throat. The body twisted out of the air and hit the ground with a thud as one of Bloodfury's griffons stabbed him with a spear to finish the deed.

"He's dead, sir," the griffon stated.

"Good," Bloodfury responded, throwing his cloak over his back. "Let's hope the other assassins have more sense. Now let's get inside. Ruskel, hide the body before the guards show up. Leret, you're with me. Get the VIP inside."




Scarclaw raised his head from the table when Bloodfury entered the room with the informant. "Well, that certainly took you a good while," he said.

"Sorry, sir," Bloodfury said. "We had a run-in with some... problems along the way."

"And I hope you dealt with them in good old-fashioned Imperial Guard style?"

"As always, sir."

"Good. Bring him in."

The door opened and Fellwyre walked in, and saluted Scarclaw, who returned a nod. Bloodfury saluted subsequently and left the room, leaving Fellwyre to Scarclaw and his guards. Rounding two corners and up a flight of stairs in quick succession, he entered the room where the Ghosts sat monitoring the conversation from a secret alcove in the wall, protected by a soundproof magical barrier disguised as a one-way mirror.

"Figured you'd all be up here," Bloodfury said.

"Yeah, of course we'd be," Mendoza said. "We got an important VIP, and we're going to want to know what he knows."

"Thoughts on the commander?"

"Would rather shoot him than trust him," Raymond gruffly said.

"Yeah, there's kind of a stigma against two-timers, no offense intended," Pastor said. "Say, where'd you get this barrier? I thought griffons couldn't use magic?"

"You're right, we can't, but we do have a number of enchantments left over from reigns of previous emperors, back when magic was something more of a scholarly art studied through artificial means instead of direct connections to energies like the Equestrians."

"So you guys can use magic, then?"

"More or less. It's a very esoteric field of study, though. We don't know much about magic, and we can't use Equestrian references because our version of magic works differently than theirs do. And let's just say that we haven't advanced very far within the past hundred years or so..."

"Ah." Pastor nodded. "So does every single species in this world have some sort of magical affinity?"

Bloodfury shrugged. "More or less. Griffon society has learned to work without it, though, so that's why we're more practical in terms of our progress. It also means that outside of the Emperor's own court, you probably won't find many well-versed in the study of magical enchantments."

"Right..." Mendoza poked the barrier. "Feels just like a regular old wall to me. Except, well, you can see through it. Oh, look, they're starting." They all moved forward and peered down into the room.

"So..." Scarclaw said. "... any other pertinent information on Whisper you'd like to share?"

"Yes. As you may or may not already be aware of, he has a base hidden within the magistrate's palace. That's where he's working from. He's manipulating the magistrate into enacting his own orders and having Strongbeak's elites keep him under guard to make sure he doesn't do anything out of place."

"Right. We already had a good idea on that. Can you sketch the layout of the compound from memory and mark down where Whisper is located?"

"Of course." Fellwyre was handed a scroll, quill, and inkwell, and began to work. The compound featured numerous rooms, many of which he labeled, and several offices for administrating the affairs of ruling the city. He rested the quill against the inkwell before he continued. "I should let you know that Whisper has full intention of bringing in more soldiers to quell the uprisings here, and Whisper has arranged for immediate transportation out when he does so."

"Yes, we've known that escape may be on his list of plans for a while now. What else do you know?" Scarclaw asked. Snowfeather sat next to Scarclaw taking down the conversation, his proficiency with a quill allowing him to keep up with all the details.

"He intends to report his findings here to Strongbeak, and use this city as a means to establish permanent martial law throughout all of the Empire. As of now, it's only limited to Tesseraka, but he'll crush the riots here to serve as justification for increased military presence in the hometown... and perhaps even a draft to send more soldiers to fight on the front. Cement his power and exile the dissidents in one fell swoop."

"Now that's new..." Scarclaw folded his arms, tilting his head to see what Snowfeather had taken down before giving an approving nod. "So does this mean that Strongbeak isn't aware of the riots?"

Fellwyre shook his head. "No. From the reports I've been able to sneak a glance at, he's assured Strongbeak that the situation within Tesseraka is under control. Since Whisper has complete control over all the information coming in and out of the Empire, it's very possible that Strongbeak isn't even aware that the uprisings are even happening at all, aside from the ones that he quelled when he initiated the coup."

"He places too much faith in Whisper. Then that means it's true: if we can take Whisper out, we can cripple their flow of information... Thank you for the information, Commander Fellwyre. It's going to be of great use to us in the future."

"I assure you, General Scarclaw, the pleasure is all mine. Now, is there a mess hall around here? I'd like to get something to eat..."

"Sure. It's near just outside this room, down the hall to the right."

"Thank you." Fellwyre saluted and exited the room with a wide flourish of his cloak. Scarclaw whispered something to Snowfeather, who nodded, before leaving the room with map in tow and entering the observation area where Bloodfury and the Ghosts were. "So, what do you think?"

"Well, I think he's hiding something," Raymond said. "But what it is, I don't know..."

"Maybe you're just on end. I remember Fellwyre being under my command once, a long time ago. He was a good soldier, and from what I recall, he did help the loyalist movement here in Carseract gain its footing before he went dark for a time, around the same time Whisper moved in and set up shop."

"Right. Well, I'm going to put keep an eye on him, anyway."

"A bit of paranoia might do us some good in these times," Scarclaw said. "Anyway, we have the map." He unfolded it and handed it to Talbot as they gathered to look it over. A single office near far from the entrance was marked with a red X. "That's where Whisper will be waiting. Expect the place to be heavily guarded and patrolled by Strongbeak's elites."

"Then I don't think stealth will work much in our favor," Talbot said. "What other options do we have?"

"All-out assault," Bloodfury offered. "The riots are having a direct effect on the citizens: uprisings in the Military, Commercial, and Residential Districts have already created a sizeable force to keep the garrison busy."

"Agreed," Scarclaw said. "I don't see any other way without blowing your cover and ours. We already have plans in place to launch uprisings in the remainder of the districts, and plunge the entire city into all-out war. We'll use the chaos in that moment to launch a strike on the palace while they're busy trying to organize against the riots."

"So we'll be going in with griffon support then?" Pastor asked.

"Yes. The rest of the military griffons have done well training new loyalists in combat, and will be leading them into combat. Bloodfury here, however, and the rest of the Imperial Guard soldiers here under my command, will be assisting you with your assault into the magistrate's palace."

"Nice," Mendoza said, nodding. "How many of the Guard are here?"

"Several dozen. They'll be armed with their Guard equipment, and can easily trump any of Strongbeak's elites without much trouble. With the support of the Ghosts, we should be able to make our way inside with good speed and kill Whisper before he even has a chance to get out."

"Blitz tactics," Raymond said. "I like it. Rules of engagement, boss?"

"We're going for speed, not discretion, this time, Scope," Talbot said. "All-out assault with emphasis on capturing and neutralizing the target within a known location; this one's out of the books, so targets are 'engage at will', but watch for friendlies. When do we attack?" Talbot asked, handing off the map to Pastor for further examination.

"In two days' time. I'll make the preparations and send word to the other hideouts. Bloodfury will notify the Imperial Guard and rally at the home base, where we'll launch from. As for Fellwyre... I'll relocate him to the home base to keep a closer eye on him, but keep him out of the important places, like your quarters and my command center. Until then, good luck to you all," Scarclaw said, nodding as he exited.

"There's a little extra thing I'd like to add..." Bloodfury said.

"Well, I certainly hope it doesn't complicate things for us," Talbot said, slightly grimacing.

"That remains to be seen. You see, the magistrate here was forced to enact Whisper's edicts, and Leret, one of my own, is his son. He wants to make sure that his father remains safe and will be entering with you as part of the spearhead force to look for him."

"So his father's the magistrate?" Mendoza said. "Sheesh, talk about a touchy job. I hope we don't end up shooting him, but I guess that's why he's going in with us."

"Yes," Bloodfury said. "I'll maintain command over the primary assault force on the palace grounds and stop any reinforcements from coming in, while Leret will take charge of the entering strike force, numbering ten, eleven including him."

"Then I'll do the same and leave one of my own with you to keep watch in case anything nasty happens," Talbot said. "Scope, you're up for topside guard duty."

"Damn... and here I wanted to personally put a bullet through that asshole's head..." Raymond grumbled.

"Nope. Topside guard duty. With Bloodfury's assistance, you're to set up in one of the guard towers and maintain standing overwatch for all of the palace grounds. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out." Talbot stood up and patted him on the back. "Understood?"

"Sure, boss. But I better be able to put a .50 BMG through the head of at least one of these generals, or I'm going to be one unhappy camper."

"Yeah, and I better be able to use my rockets or I'm going to be one pissed explosives expert!" Mendoza said. "I've already come up with plans on how to kick that battle wagon general's ass. And when I fire those babies, it'll be like the most glorious thing in the entire world for me." He held his hand to his chest and closed his eyes with a dreamy expression. "It'll be amazing. There'll be sparks, and smoke, and fire, and explosions. It ain't a party without some explosions."

"Alright, so we're all on the same page, then," Talbot said, looking to Bloodfury. "We'll return to home base and rest up for the night, and then we'll prepare and rest until they start the attacks. Does that sound good?"

Bloodfury nodded. "It should be fine, and we'll have enough time to prepare. The general wants to launch a night attack to lower our chances of being detected. Works in our favor, and even more for yours, if that equipment you have is anything to go by."

"Excellent," Talbot said, as the Ghosts stood up and gathered near the door with Bloodfury. "Gentlemen... and griffon. Let's return back to the home base for now. We have much to do..."
> House Call
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Every time I look at his face, he seems uglier than he was before," Mendoza said, nodding at the picture of Whisper hanging on the wall. The paper was suspended with a combat knife stabbed straight into Whisper's forehead.

"How the hell do you even tell? I mean, no offense to our buddies here, but all the griffons sort of look alike," Pastor said.

"There's a tasteless joke in there somewhere, but I don't think I'll touch down on that," Mendoza laughed. "Anyway, it's been two days now. When are we going to strike?"

"Whenever Scarclaw gives the go-ahead," Raymond grumbled, walking into the bunks. "The worst fucking part about staking out on a guy is waiting for him to actually do something. You wait, and wait, and wait, and then when you end up blinking, he's slipped through your fingers."

"Problems with Fellwyre?" Talbot said.

"Problems?" Raymond repeated. "No, I wish there were problems. The guy's gone and cooped himself up in his room the whole time, doing nothing but reading books. Books that he has the guards bring down from the library after they check it to make sure there isn't anything hidden in them."

"Maybe he's not actually a spy, or something?" Mendoza said, sitting down on his bed as it groaned against the weight of his kit. He picked his helmet up off of the nightstand and began checking the crosscom suite attached to it. "You never know."

"He still gives me bad vibes. I just know he's hiding something."

"Worry about that later, Scope," Talbot said. "We have more important things to focus on. Scarclaw has notified me that the attack is to begin tonight. We'll be attacking as soon as the riots reach full pitch in the remaining districts, and then we'll move out as they redirect the guards to other areas."

"Are we going to be trailing the Imperial Guard force on foot?" Pastor asked.

Talbot shook his head. "Negative. They'll be using wagons to expedite our travel." He pulled out a map of the palace and surrounding buildings, pointing at a small alleyway just right off the main street near the main gates. "They'll be parking the wagon here, and that's where we'll be getting off the wagon and hooking up with the primary attack force."

"That gate's going to be locked. They have any plans to deal with that?"

"They already have plans in place. Scarclaw assures me that he already has something in mind, and to just focus on the primary breach-and-enter for the palace itself. I trust you gentlemen have been checking your equipment?"

"Checked, double-checked, and triple-checked," Mendoza said. "We're ready to move at the drop of a dime, boss."

As if on cue, the door opened and Snowfeather entered. "Ghosts, my uncle has given the order to start the attack. Bloodfury wants the strike force to rally in the warehouse upstairs. He's prepared a wagon for transportation for the Ghosts, and he also told me to remind you all that you're on discretionary stealth until you reach the inside of the compound."

"Yeah, I'm going to need a layman's version of that," Mendoza said, pulling over the balaclava over his face. Finished with the diagnostics on his crosscom, he put on the tactical helmet and locked the chinstrap.

"We're pulling stealth until we make it into the secret compound inside the palace. Until then, we can't be seen due to risk of non-involved bystanders and the palace staff. Is that good enough?" Talbot asked.

Mendoza gave a thumbs-up. "Crystal clear, sir."

Raymond and Pastor followed suit, readying their MR8s and giving affirmative nods to Talbot. The captain locked his own helmet into place, blue lights appearing on his visor as the local crosscom systems activated, linking all their suites together. "Then let's go," he said.




The wagon squealed through the streets as it passed through another courtyard filled with combatants. The air was thick with the stench of smoke as several nearby warehouses and guard posts burned, painting the light of the city with an unholy red tint.

"Let's go! Move it out! Strike teams five and seven, initiate assault plan! Get those gates open!" they heard Bloodfury hiss from outside. "The rest of you, get into positions and prepare to storm the grounds! Ready blades and check your armor! Ancestors guide you all!"

"Ancestors guide us all!" a number of Imperial Guard responded.

The clank of metal could be heard as Bloodfury opened the back of the wagon with a thud. "Here we are, Ghosts. I have two of my strike teams about to infiltrate onto the walls and open the gates. As soon as they do, we will charge an attempt to take hold of the courtyard. From there, Leret will be leading the palace strike team and you will head inside alongside them to look for Whisper and his father."

"Just like what we went over," Talbot's transparent form said. "Get back to your soldiers, we'll be ready to enter as soon as you are. Let Leret know that we'll be following him inside the palace even if he can't see us."

"Will do. Good luck to us all, Ghosts," Bloodfury said. Warily looking up and down the street, he quickly made his way downwards back to where his griffons were stationed, surprisingly agile despite his heavy adorned Imperial Guard armor.

"We're Ghosts, we don't need luck," Raymond said.

"Cut the gung-ho, Scope, we have a job to do," Talbot said. They stacked up on the corner of the building, waiting for the gates to open as the lines up ahead were filled with shifting griffons. Soon enough, several griffons glided across the sky and silently landed on the walls of the palace gates, quickly dispatching the guards with ease and opening the gate with the mechanism inside the tower.

"Imperial Guard! Advance!" Bloodfury shouted.

"Keep it low, keep it quiet," Talbot said. "Trail them in, but don't get caught in a fight. Let them do the muscle work." They broke out of their cover and began advancing down the road.

The griffons shouted their war cries as they began to storm inside. Guards from inside the palace and the nearby barracks were spurred into action. Both sides clashed in the middle of the courtyard as the infiltration teams brought out their crossbows to eliminate any stragglers. The palace guards' swings met only refined steel as the Imperial Guard's training quickly proved too much for the magistrate defense forces.

"No, please, I yield! Please, let us live!" one of the guards shouted, tossing away his weapon and bowing before one of the Guard.

"Orders, sir?" the Guard asked Bloodfury.

"The sides were made clear long before this conflict even began," Bloodfury said. "Like many below under Strongbeak's rule, he serves out of fear. Tie him up and hang him upside down in the wagon storage later, along with any other who wish to surrender. We cannot risk them getting out and sending word for reinforcements. The matter of their honor, however, shall be decided upon later."

"As you wish, sir." The Guard immediately bludgeoned the prisoner's face with the end of his spear, immediately knocking him out with a single sure blow and returned to the battle.

"Can't argue about their efficiency," Raymond said, as the Ghost team quickly made their way to a hefty pile of firewood near the inner entrance of the palace walls.

"Walls, clear!" a member of the infiltration team said.

"That's your cue, Scope. Take up position in the highest point in the gate towers and maintain guard. The rest of us will be heading inside and dealing with Whisper ourselves." Raymond nodded and immediately went into the doorway across to their left, heading up the stairs into the towers with his sniper rifle.

Bloodfury finished off the last guard with a single blade through the unfortunate soldier's chest. The rest of the Guards squared off on their current situation, eyeing up the walls, the courtyard, and the palace that sat right in the middle of it. A number of them on the outer flanks of the attack force began to search the rest of the premises for any hiding enemies.

"Leret! Grab your team and take the palace!" Bloodfury shouted. "The rest of you, take up positions and close those gates! No one gets in or out without us knowing about it!"

"That's our call, let's go," Talbot said. Maintaining their hasty crouch, their shimmering forms were obscured by the light layer of smoke as they quickly managed to catch the back of Leret's team just as they broke down the doors and ran inside. Several screams rang out within as they ran into the palace staff.

"P-please, don't hurt us!" a female shouted, huddling fearfully in the corner to their right as they entered with a number of other servants. Their eyes darted between the Guards as Leret's team charged through the halls on their way to the magistrate's office.

"Here's the bookshelf, sir!" Talbot heard one of them say from within. There was a unified grunt as they pried the secret doorway open, followed by a shaking thud as they let the object tilt and hit the floor.

"Captain, are you in here?" Leret asked.

"I'm here, Leret. Proceed as planned," Talbot said. He uncloaked as he walked into the room with Pastor and Mendoza at his side. "Whisper will be taken down."

"Understood, sir. Imperial Guard! Prepare to storm! Captain, it would be best if you and your team could stay as close to me as possible."

"Affirmative, Leret. Anvil Squad, ready weapons, we're going in hot."

"Ready and waiting," Mendoza said, stretching his shoulders as he brought up his MR8 into the low-ready position. "A three-man team should be more than enough with all these guys at our side."

"Remember, the elites are going to be wearing heavy armor, so aim for the head," Talbot said. "Despite our weapons' armor-piercing capabilities, I'd rather not chance in a close-quarters encounter whether or not all that griffon plate can be penetrated, and their helmets will most likely have less protection than the rest of their armor."

"So put 'em right between the eyes," Pastor said. "Sounds easy enough."

"Alright, Captain, let us proceed into the compound," Leret said. They ran forth inside, along a downwards-angling hallway and into the depths of the maze underneath the palace. Much like the prison base in Ghastly Gorge, the inner areas were filled with hallways and connected rooms. According to the map, Whisper was hiding in the furthest-most room, but they couldn't go straight for him without drawing the attention of the guards, so speedy elimination was their primary objective.

They entered several rooms on their way down the hall, only to move on when it was revealed that they were entirely empty. Most of the guards had either been called into action out in the city, or were eliminated in the clash in the courtyard, it seemed.

"Seems a little bit too quiet down here..." Mendoza said.

"I agree," Leret said, taking a moment to flex his arms, relieving himself of the tension of holding his hefty sword. "I had expected far more resistance when entering."

Passing through the doorway leading to the prison rooms, they realized that they had spoken too soon, as a line of elites stood waiting for them. Their armor, while as cumbersome and intimidating as the Imperial Guards', had a darker black shine to it compared to the Guards' red.

"You will go no further, rebels!" the lead guard shouted. He was met with burst of gunfire to the forehead, piercing through his thin eyeguards, as Talbot took the initiative and fired before the fight began. Leret gave out a battle cry and charged the elites, his own griffons following him into combat as the Ghosts took up positions on the sides and quickly dispatched any targets in their line of fire.

"That went well," Talbot said. "You Imperial Guards sure know how to handle yourselves despite those long blades and spears and heavy armor."

"And you have good foresight," Leret said. "In accordance with griffon honor, none of these traitors were to leave the grounds alive unless they surrendered. It's nice to know that another race isn't so keen towards negotiations during battle as we are."

"It was pretty clear-cut that this was only going to end in a fight. And they're Strongbeak's elite, I don't think they're particularly inclined to surrender."

"That is true. Soldiers of the Bastion are resilient, and extremely prideful. I should know, as should most of us, since many of us used be part of them. A shame that this will now sully their honor for future generations to come."

"Then the sooner we put Strongbeak in his place, the sooner we can restore them to honor." Talbot stepped aside as another Guard walked past him to examine the dead bodies on his side of the room.

Leret nodded thoughtfully. "You speak like a true griffon... it would be interesting if the remainder of your kind should make contact with Equestria. Certainly, I'd wager that our similarities would more than make up for differences, and griffons are always eager to speak with non-griffons who share new worldviews and cultures."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'd say we're plenty caught up with our own wars, thank you very much. Besides, I believe we've overstayed our welcome for far too long now. We're just helping the Equestrians before we get sent on our way... or at least I hope so."

"As you wish. Now, we've tarried long enough, let us continue."




"What's the sitrep downstairs, boss?" Raymond asked.

"We just cleared a room full of hostiles. No sign of Whisper or Leret's father. The holding cells are completely empty, so we're expecting the worst," Talbot responded.

"Roger, sir. Will continue guard topside until you're ready." He raised his eye from the M107's scope and scanned the main street and the skyline in the distance. There were no signs of approaching forces, and fighting was still in the air as the sound of a building crumbling rattled in the distance.

"I assume everything's going as planned?" Bloodfury asked, coming up the stairs behind him.

"As well as it can be." His shimmering form shifted slightly as he made himself comfortable in his prone position. "I certainly hope nobody gets any funny ideas and tries attacking us. This weapon is made specifically to tear infantry apart, armor or not."

"I'll have to take your word for it... it certainly does look fearsome." Bloodfury eyed the magazine. "Are the projectiles stored in there?"

"They are. If you can't already tell, they're pretty big..."

"Almost as big as my claw, actually... must be quite fearsome if such a thing can tear through a body with no trouble."

"Well, we're pretty efficient with that... that's why these were invented, after all. There's never a shortage of weapons in our world."

"To be able to perfect war technologies to that point must be fearsome indeed... wait, did you see that?"

"I don't see anything, and my visors can detect movement at a long distance. Sure it wasn't just something out of the corner of your eye?"

"Perhaps, but I could have sworn I saw a griffon flying off towards the northern gates a moment ago. Ah, nevermind, it was probably just the smoke messing with my vision."

"That's probably it. Hard to tell, anyway, and from the looks of it, all the griffon air units are already caught up on the ground. Even if that was a griffon, it wouldn't be really good of him to be fleeing from a battle, right?"

"You are correct. I should return to my rounds now. It would seem that Whisper's guard seems to be lax this time around... perhaps too lax. Maybe we shall see why in due time," Bloodfury said, folding his wings close to his body as he descended the stairwell.

Raymond looked back through the scope scanning the northern wall of the city. He barely caught the sign of movement, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, obscured by the falling ashes and the rising smoke beyond. He shook his head; perhaps he was seeing things now, too.




"There's nothing down here. What the hell's going on?" Pastor asked, as he slammed another cell door shut. "All these prison cells, and nothing... or rather no one in them. You'd think a paranoid bastard like Whisper would have these cells filled to the brim with probable traitors and turncoats."

"Whew, you smell that?" Mendoza said. "I've been around the block a few times before, but that's the smell of death, and lots of it. I'm pretty damn sure I'm right when I'm saying that it comes from this last cell door."

"Then let us see," Leret said, cleaving off the lock with a single strike. Sheathing his sword, he opened the door as a rush of odor bombarded his nostrils. He put an arm up against his face and quickly slammed it shut. "Now we know for sure," he coughed. "Leave them. We shall return later and give the unfortunate a proper burial. Until then, we move on."

"Are you sure your father isn't in there?" Talbot asked.

"I shall mourn for him when I know the truth," Leret said guardedly. "And I will know the truth when we find Whisper. Let us continue."

They continued on, dispatching guards with lethal efficiency on their way to Whisper's office. Eventually, they happened upon a large set of ornate double doors... guarded by two of the largest griffons that they'd ever seen, decked out in custom-fitted elite armor. Without even being prompted, they charged the loyalist group as the Ghosts immediately backtracked to avoid their wide swings.

Leret met one of the swings with his own blade as another Guard filled the gap that Captain Talbot left, grunting as his deflected the other blow. Short bursts of hisses came from the Ghosts as they struggled to accurately aim at the towering brutes' heads.

"Swapping mags!" Mendoza shouted, ejecting the empty one from his MR8. He narrowly ducked another wild swing from the massive sword the brutes carried as he slapped in another magazine and chambered a round. "Holy shit, these fuckers are huge!"

Leret blocked a downward swing and immediately ducked left, taking care to avoid hitting the wall in the less-than-large room. He slashed the brute's legs where they were exposed, rending tendons as the griffon howled and fell to the ground in pain. Knocking off the wounded griffon's helmet, he planted a killing blow, sending his blade straight into the back of the head.

The other Guard was knocked aside by his own adversary, giving a frustrated grunt as he hit the wall. More Imperial Guards filed into the room, surrounding the bruiser. The elite held the Guards at bay, wildly swinging his sword to delay his own death... or to protect Whisper.

"We don't have time for this," Talbot muttered, standing behind the circling line of Guard in front of him. Holstering his MR8, he whipped out his revolver and planted three rounds into the brute's face, shattering the griffon's faceplate with explosive force and imploding his skull with high-caliber firepower. The corpse hit the ground and a small pool of blood began to leak out from where the face originally had been.

"They may certainly be huge, but their lack of skill more than makes up for their size. Easy to predict, and easy to take down, even in the absence of your impressive weapons," Leret said, looking at his brethren who had been thrown aside. "You are getting sloppy, Agehr. Perhaps all this time out of combat is making you grow complacent."

"I fully realize my own failures," Agehr admitted. "If it had been the Emperor's life at risk, I would have failed, if my comrades had not been there to cover for my mistake. I shall take to more training when I have free time."

"Good," Leret said. "Form up!" The Guards immediately arranged themselves behind him as Anvil Squad took up firing positions behind the griffons. Leret walked forward and kicked the doors open, revealing the office desk and shelves of the carpet-lined room... and the office chair that held the griffon that they were after.




"Bloodfury, we have groups circling around the palace! What's the call?" Raymond shouted from the tower.

"We hold positions, and take them down as they charge in! Stow that weapon, Scope, I think we're due for close combat this time around," Bloodfury said. "Positions, Guards, positions! Watch your sides and check your rears!" Raymond abandoned his vantage position as he moved to a window on his right, MR8 ready to pick down any griffon stupid enough to charge down the street.

"Do we have positions on the enemy?" a Guard called out.

"They are circling us as we speak! Those of you on the walls, arm your crossbows and prepare to fend off attackers! The rest of you, watch any possible entry points and keep the palace doors guarded!" A group formed behind the main gates, forming a ring with their spears leveled, ready for any who broke through.

"Who called the reinforcements?" another Guard said.

"That doesn't matter! All that matters is that they know we're here, and we have to stop them from getting inside and rescuing Whisper! If it means we give our lives, then so be it! Anyone who sees contact, call it out! We hold this position at all costs, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the soldiers shouted in unison.

"We have contact coming down the main street!" Raymond yelled, firing his MR8 in single shots as the griffon soldiers outside quickly began to close the distance to the gates.

"Fire!" The infiltration teams to the left and right of the gate towers unleashed a volley of bolts as the charging griffons. Each shot found a mark as their numbers were thinned by half. "Reload!"

Raymond quickly picked off the others with ease. Unlike the elites, the armor of the standard griffon military had much more exposed areas, including around the neck and extremities. That meant crippling and killing them was only an exercise in knowing how to trail the aim of the target, and firing at the most opportune time.

"No contact here, Sergeant!" a distant voice called out.

"Fliers dispatched on the western walls, sir!"

"Also no contact on the east walls!"

"Maintain positions, and keep your eyes sharp! Their attack on the north gates may just be a diversion!" Bloodfury said. "Scope! Status report!"

"Attackers are all dead," Raymond said, looking down into the streets at the line of bodies strewn up the length of the avenue. "Killed them all before they could even reach the gates."

"Excellent. Take stock of supplies, requisition more if needed! We have armaments from the palace guards, so use them all if need be! Watch for any more attackers! With due luck, we'll be out of here and back in time for the evening meal..."




"There he is!" Mendoza said. He and Pastor fanned out to the corners of the room, sights lined up on the chair across from them.

Talbot immediately circled around the table, spinning the chair around to face the strike force as he pointed a rifle in the griffon's face. "End of the line, Whisper. We're taking you down." A single pull of the trigger would have ended it all... had Leret not intervened.

"Hold your fire, Captain!" Leret came up beside him and examined the griffon's clothing and accouterments. "This isn't Whisper... this is my father! See, his legs and arms are tied up. Why didn't you say anything?" Receiving a murmur instead, he realized the truth. "Whisper set you up to take the fall, and he sealed your beak to prevent you from saying otherwise?" Leret's father nodded frantically, as Talbot cut open his restraints.

"That was almost too close a call. But if this is your father, then where's Whisper?" Talbot asked. Leret's father immediately grabbed a quill and inkwell, and quickly scratched out a few words on to a piece of parchment.

NORTH. SECRET TUNNEL. BEHIND BOOKSHELF. LEADS OUTSIDE CITY.

"Damn!" Leret cursed. "I thank you for this information, father. Agehr! Take two and protect the magistrate here! The rest of you, smash these bookshelves and look for those tunnels!"

"Shit, that means we've just been had, and not in a good way. If the tunnels go straight out to the city, Whisper might be long gone from here by now," Pastor said. With that, more words were written on the parchment as the Imperial Guards began carving up the bookshelves.

NO, STILL HERE. LEFT JUST BEFORE ATTACK BEGAN.

"Then that means we still have a chance of catching him," Leret said. A guard hollered when one of the shelves gave way to a secret passage beyond. "There! Enter the fray, brothers! We must eliminate Whisper at any costs!"

They immediately charged inside, pursuing Whisper through the length of the dark and dank tunnels. The framework of the system indicated that they had been hastily built, with some unfinished areas of the tunnels still prevalent as tools and supplies still sat around.

"Looks like he's been busy trying to get out," Talbot said.

"With the riots happening, it would have only been a matter of time before they engulfed the palace," Leret said. "Though why he did not seek to leave as soon as possible is beyond me. Perhaps Strongbeak wished to be rid of him and gave him orders to stay, but why he would let dissent reach a boiling point in any city just to kill a single griffon contradicts what we know of him."

"In any case, maybe we can cut off Whisper's escape with another way..." Talbot said. He keyed his crosscom and hoped that the tunnels didn't distort the transmission.




"Scope! Get your ass to the north city gates ASAP!" Talbot shouted.

"What's up at the north gates, sir?"

"Whisper thought he duped us. He's escaping through a secret tunnel that leads north from the inner compound directly outside the north gates of the city! I need you to get to those walls and put a bullet in his head before he gets away! We're already pursuing him through the tunnels. Do not let him escape! Talon out!"

"Right away, sir," Raymond said. Grabbing his M107 and running down the stairs, he immediately approached Bloodfury, who was aiding with moving supplies from inside the barracks to the walls. "Bloodfury! Change in plans. We need to get to the north city gates right now. Whisper's escaping through a secret tunnel, and he's going to be exiting just outside the gates."

"Damn. That's easily a long travel on foot. But thankfully... we have wings," Bloodfury said.

"Are you suggesting that you carry me there?"

"I think that can be done, though I may have to sacrifice a bit of my armor to do so." He began taking off armor plates until only his chestpiece and helmet remained. "Right, that should do. I'll leave my armor here to my soldiers, and they can hold down the fort while we intervene at the north gates. Get on, Scope, we have a rat to catch."

Slinging his M107 over his shoulders, Raymond climbed on Bloodfury's back. "You sure this isn't too heavy?" he asked.

"Please, I've carried elderly griffons heavier than you. Even with all that stuff on you, you're as light as a feather. Now hold on, I don't want you falling to your death en route to the walls." He reared on his legs and pushed into the skies with a flap of his wings, rising above the city's rooftops and dodging columns of smoke as they quickly approached the north city gates.

"What about hostiles on the walls?" Raymond asked.

"You leave that to me!" he said. "You focus on trying to find where he's going to show up!" The ramparts of the wall were in sight as Bloodfury began to descend, gliding towards the crenelations. "Here we go, watch your step!"

The guards on the wall began shouting as Bloodfury landed, immediately pummeling one in the face with a solid punch, drawing his sword. Raymond immediately got off and eliminated two guards with his MR8, clearing the enemies in one direction while Bloodfury took the other.

"Clear!" Raymond said. A spot on the outer wall was smashed open, and gave him a vantage spot over the plains outside of the city. He set up his M107 into a prone position as he used his scope to scan the area for Whisper's probable escape means. "Come on, he can't just escape on foot. That'd be too obvious..."

"I wonder if he's escaped already..." Bloodfury said, looking around to make sure no other guards were sneaking up on them.

"I certainly hope not, or this whole operation is going to go down the shitter." Raymond continued scanning, pulling his scope higher as he began to examine the areas closer to the city, until he found a small band of wagons a distance away. "I think I have something. Looks like a whole bunch of wagons, roughly near that tree in the distance. Do you see it?"

Bloodfury squinted as he looked across the plains. "Oh, yeah, that tree... I see it. Then we'll just wait for him to show up and you can use that weapon of yours to rip him a new one."

"Wait... there's someone else there... it looks like Fellwyre. He's talking with the guards."

"Fellwyre?!" Bloodfury said. "That two-timing son of a bitch! I'll gut him from head to tail for this! I guess you were right all along... can't trust traitors, anyway."

"He just killed all the guards."

"What?"

"You heard me. He just killed all the guards by himself. I'll keep an eye on him, but you better go check it out."

"Oh, I will," Bloodfury said, jumping off the walls and gliding towards the escape site.




Gale Whisper exited the tunnel, holding out claw to receive one in turn. Being grateful for his escape for the time being, his relief was broken when that claw pulled him out of the tunnel exit with great force and threw him towards the ground, slamming with a thud and a snap as he felt his wing take the brunt of the landing.

"Who..." he began to say, looking up at the assailant. "Fellwyre!"

"Greetings, brother," Fellwyre said. "It's been a long time. Funny how I've been running around your little city and you still couldn't catch me. And even when you did... I did so willingly."

"And then you escaped again!" Whisper rasped, standing up. "What are you doing here? Are you going to try to stop me from escaping?"

"No, brother... I am here to offer you an ultimatum."

Whisper laughed. "And what would that be? What could you possibly offer me that I haven't already obtained through means that you were too cowardly to use?"

"Your life, for one. Amnesty, too, perhaps. All you must do is resign your position on Strongbeak's council and defect. Work for the crown. Work for the good of the Empire. I beseech you, brother, consider what you are doing."

"Damn the crown! For far too long, they have stifled our family's power! Our true glory and talent! And you seek to work for these dogs?! I have claimed what is rightfully ours: power and glory! And working for Strongbeak, we will deliver the Griffon Empire into another golden age, one where the mere mention of our Empire would send our foes quaking with fear!"

Fellwyre gritted his beak. "I ask you again, brother... I urge you to consider what this may implicate in the long run. Do you not fear the backlash from the Equestrians, of their Princesses who control the sun and moon? Or the dragons, with their immense power and great strength? Did you not consider any of these when you joined with Strongbeak? When you sold our family out to be executed for treason, you faithless cur?"

"They did not agree with my views, and they never have. You were always the favored son, you know, Fellwyre? The pride of our parents, taking up the prestigious occupation of soldier for the Empire. No, what attachment I had with them was minor, at best. I did not mourn to see them go."

Bloodfury landed behind Fellwyre, blade in hand. "What's the meaning of this, Fellwyre? How in the name of the ancestors did you get out of the compound?"

"I escaped... it's something that I've become exceedingly proficient at, it seems. But rest assured, I stand with the crown... and I am here to try to convince my brother of his wrongdoings."

"So another dog of the crown shows up..." Whisper said. "What will you do now, I wonder? Kill me? Take me in? Do not think that you have won a victory just by my elimination... Strongbeak has many plans that will ensure the downfall of all who oppose him, even with my absence."

"Of that, I doubt," Fellwyre said. "And it pains me to know that I could not turn you from the path you now stray towards, brother."

"You are the misguided one, you fool!" Whisper drew his own blade. "I will escape to tell Strongbeak of these insurrections, and you will all pay for your treason against our true ruler. Now, brother... I am afraid you and your compatriot must die here! A minute price to pay to bring the griffons back to their glory!"

Fellwyre drew his own blade, backing up alongside Bloodfury. "Ready yourself, Sergeant. Though he is a griffon of words, he is still deadly with a blade, as well trained as any Imperial Guard..."

"It ends here, Fellwyre!" Whisper said, crouching down to charge... only for his head to explode in a cloud of fine red mist.

*CRACK*

The report of gunfire from the M107 finally caught up with the speed of the bullet, almost indistinguishable from the sound of thunder against the overcast red skies.

"What... what just happened?" Fellwyre asked.

"That, Commander... that was divine retribution. Consider this as a sign of what happens to those who stand against the crown... especially when we have powerful allies from Equestria."

"You're telling me that Equestrian soldiers did this? Such devastating power, to fell a griffon where he stands..."

"In a way, yes. Do you grieve over his death, sir?"

Fellwyre shook his head. "No... I did what I could. He was stubborn and arrogant, straight to the end. Too caught up in his own pride, thinking that he was always right. Perhaps he did have good intentions, perhaps he did not... but now he is dead, and I do not mourn. It might be a little selfish of me to say that he had this coming, really."

"As much as I'd like to trust you, I'm going to have to take you into custody until you can explain yourself to General Scarclaw, sir," Bloodfury said, holding his blade at the ready.

"That would be fine." Fellwyre tossed aside his blade and gazed sadly at his brother's corpse. "Perhaps what happened here is a testament to my failure as a brother... but enough regaling, since I'm sure we have much to do. I shall lead the way to the compound, Sergeant, so as for you to maintain your security over me." Bloodfury nodded and they both took to the air, heading back towards the city.




"Scope, this is Talon. Come in, over. I lost tabs on the comms after we went into the tunnels. Respond," Talbot said, trudging through the tunnel with Leret and the others as a small column of light near the end showed that they were nearing the exit for the tunnel.

"I'm here, sir," Raymond said. "I scored a direct hit on the target."

"Affirmative. Any hostiles topside?"

"All eliminated, sir. I guess Fellwyre might really be on our side, after all."

"He was there?" Talbot asked, surprised. "Must be one wily bastard if he can sneak out of Scarclaw's compound without being noticed. So he was present at the kill?"

"Target was eliminated right in front of him, sir."

"Well, then, it's best to conclude for ourselves on that matter," Talbot said. "Leret, the area should be clear. It would turn out that Fellwyre had a direct hand in this, and Sergeant Bloodfury has taken him into custody for further interrogation."

"Damn. And here I had hoped to run Whisper through myself. You Ghosts do good work, that I can admit." They headed up the incline to the exit of the tunnel, opening into a trio of wagons and grasslands all around them. The bodies of guards lay all over, as Talbot walked over to the center of the ring, taking note of the body.

"Scope, this is Talon."

"Receiving, Talon. What's the final status on the target?"

Leret came over and his eyes widened as he saw what was left of Whisper's head.

"Kill confirmed," Talbot said. Whisper was dead, without a doubt.
> First Victories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	"Good news, everypony!" Shining said, walking into the Sanctum with a scroll before him. "The first general has been eliminated!" A round of cheers echoed throughout the rooms, as Harvey clapped with enthusiasm. "And the loyalists have gained a strong foothold in Carseract, and have begun expanding in earnest."

"That's great," Harvey said, "but I do believe our more concerning matters are here on the Equestrian front. The loyalists have proven that they can handle themselves quite well, and my comrades seem to be doing fantastically."

"No doubt about that. The griffons have already begun massing their forces outside the borders." Shining walked over to the war map and examined the number of red triangular blocks set up in and around the city of Aerocem. "Our pegasus scouts indicate that they definitely have the expected battle wagons, along with a significant number of air support."

"Have they noticed our own force buildup?"

Shining mulled it over for a moment. "If they noticed, they certainly haven't indicated as such. So it could either be a bluff, or maybe they really don't know that we know about their supposed attack. The way the Princess worded it was as if they'd expected to catch us with our guard down."

"Well, I hope you maintained discretion while setting up your emplacements for the ballistae?" Harvey asked, as an aide shifted a number of unit blocks from Stalliongrad and split them between the path leading to Canterlot and the nearby pass.

"With advice from Captain Talbot, we have. We still have to tread carefully, though; most of our efforts in building them have been slow since we can't afford to give away our positions. But when they do attack, they'll be in for a nasty surprise. Loyalists within Aerocem have sent us some reports on the battle wagons, and it seems that they'll attempt to use them en masse to break through our lines—since they're assuming that we may still rally an impromptu defense—and take the capital by storm."

"And..." Harvey's brow furrowed as he looked at the report in front of him. "They have an airship, currently in dock at Stratus Highbase above Aerocem, undergoing... well, preparations for whatever it is they're going to use it for." He tapped his finger on the last part. "And General Highcloud is situated in there."

"We've gone over this before. Loyalist help will be needed to reach the base," Shining said, levitating several more reports before him. "I'm worried about how this might turn out. The increased military presence has effectively turned the whole city and the township around it into an armed fortress. Martial law is already in full effect, and hefty numbers of troops from all the generals seem to be present."

"I'm sure the Captain can remain inconspicuous here," Harvey said. "Then again, it's not like they have a choice..."

"Let's see here..." Shining said. "...troop compositions, supply routes... well, it would seem that Strongbeak is seemingly turning a blind eye to the events in Carseract."

"Isn't that a bit foolish? It's not the first time a tyrant has been felled by ignoring those conspiring beneath him."

"He is prideful, after all. He might deal with it in due time, but that's the time that works for us and our griffon friends. Now, here..." Shining indicated towards the southern pass. "...seems to have the least amount of involvement. I'm not entirely sure whether or not it's the distance from their fortresses or the value, but it seems that they're completely ignoring it. To be sure, though, we're still posting some ballistae and troops there, but the rest of them are being moved north where they'll have better uses."

"The terrain is... pretty barren around the southern pass, isn't it?" Harvey asked, recalling the in-depth lecture he'd received from Princess Luna over Equestrian terrain.

"All desert and flat lands, yes," Shining confirmed. "Makes it hard to march an army through unless they've somehow managed to make their army disappear into thin air... though considering the type of equipment you say the Captain and his team have, maybe that isn't entirely too far-fetched."

"Perhaps a recommended intelligence report on future generals could help the Ghosts?" Harvey adjusted his glasses and looked at the flag-marked bastions of the other generals west of Aerocem. "There's... a fortress there, and two cities to the west and northwest."

"That would be Fortress Helmguard, Kruvem, and Tesseraka, respectively. Tesseraka is self-explanatory... Strongbeak is situated there and has the city completely locked down: passage is granted at his discretion. Helmguard is a military fortress, and the headquarters for Red Talon, in charge of the griffon's ground soldiers. I've heard rather fearsome rumors, some of which have actually been confirmed... he's monstrously large, even by griffon standards."

"I worry about the Ghosts' ammunition..." Harvey said. "Eventually, their reserves are going to dwindle, and although they do still have their camouflage, you have to realize that our primary method of warfare is from distance. Compared to griffons, our training in close quarters is lacking, and likewise, our armor wasn't exactly made to fend off a direct strike from something as hefty as a griffon sword."

"Well, that's what the griffons are there for, then. Aside from that, Kruvem is the headquarters of General Castshot, the general for artillery. From what it seems on this specific report, it involves using a powder substance that the Captain calls 'gunpowder'. I assume you're familiar with it?"

"Am I?" Harvey said, being reminded of his position back at DARPA. "Practically every modern projectile ammunition in our weapons use gunpowder to propel the projectile at incredible speeds. That the griffons have ready access to such a thing, even if it's just artillery and not in the form of smaller and more versatile weapons like the Ghosts', can prove to be deadly."

"Isn't one of the Ghosts an explosives expert? Specifically with gunpowder?"

"Yes, that would be Fuse... an apt name, I suppose. Well, if they manage to confiscate a good amount of it, I'm sure they'll find creative ways to put it to use."

Shining nodded and gave a final look-over of the plans and soon-to-be submitted reports before giving a final nod. "It seems everything is in order today. Thank you for joining me again, Doctor Harvey. When we receive a new batch of reports, I'll be sure to have you present."

"It's no problem," Harvey said, yawning. He looked around, attempting to find something to gauge the time of day, but found neither a clock nor a window. "What time is it?"

"It's just about to hit midnight," Shining asked. "We've been at this for quite a while. I expect we'll have a lot more sleepless nights when the griffons actually attack, so I'd suggest you brush up on your sleep while you still can." It was advice well taken, as Harvey had fallen asleep as soon as he'd gotten himself into his bed.





The next morning he found Shining knocking on his door, ecstatic with news. "They've launched their first attacks with a massive number of battle wagons!" he said. "We managed to push them back using the ballistae and they're already been routed."

Harvey rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep. "Where and when did they attack?" he asked.

"They sent their forces through just last night, through the primary pass just outside of Aerocem. They didn't expect our forces to be ready for them, so we managed to send them running with no problems. Of course, now that we've actually revealed our positions, they've relocated their army camps a further distance away. But it's a good start."

"Just be careful when that artillery general starts bringing out his guns," Harvey warned. "It might just ruin their days in more ways than one."

"Unless they can establish a superior firing position on the mountains—which we hold—the height advantage is ours. Our own unicorn corps can fend off aerial attackers while the ballistae fire off on the wagons."

"Well... have the Princesses received word of this yet?"

"They were notified immediately when the attack started, and are happy to hear of our success. The beginning skirmishes of the war have leaned heavily towards our favor, but we aren't finished just yet: the extra training that our guard units received means that they all can create a barrier that can shield our soldiers from attack."

Harvey blinked. "So... you're saying that unicorns are capable of using their magic to create magical barriers that can stop projectiles?"

"Exactly that."

They stared at each other wordlessly as Harvey's brain attempted to process that information, shaking his head at how farcical this whole conversation seemed; little moments like that kept slipping in, a reminder that he was in a world that wasn't his own. "You know, in our world, I can imagine that practically every government would be willing to throw money at something as crazy as the ability to project a shield using your head. More if they know that it actually does work."

"Well, we do things differently around here," Shining said, smiling. "But I only arrived to early to inform you of the good news. The reports will definitely be flowing in soon enough."

"Eh, I'm not holding my breath," Harvey said, earning a laugh from both of them. "Are you off to the war room again?"

Shining shook his head. "Today, I'm off-duty. The Princess has given orders that we're all to take some time off, to ease a bit of the stress. I have a wife that I fear that I've been neglecting a little bit too often, and she wants me to make up for it, so we're going out to town today and enjoying ourselves."

"I wish the best possible time for you," Harvey said. Looking at the clock and calendar, he had actually been making good time on his little compilation of whatever he could throw into the book off the top of his mind at the time. "Everyone deserves a little R&R in the middle of all this madness, anyway."

"Of course. Oh, I'd also like to mention that the Princess would like to see you at your earliest convenience. She has a rather sizeable lecture prepared on modern Equestrian culture and mannerisms."

Harvey rubbed his head, recalling Princess Luna's rather effervescent attitude towards trying to teach an alien, one who wasn't well-acquainted with Equestria, everything she possibly could about their culture. She even mentioned something about another unicorn who went by the name of Twilight who would have also enjoyed their little lectures. As if one wasn't enough, there was another pony who shared a similar enthusiasm for learning like her. He felt like he was going through university again under the watchful tutelage of one extremely dedicated professor. "Really, now...? I can't say that I'm too excited about it..."

"It's understandable... Princess Luna, even after her return and assimilation back into pony society, can still be a bit... eccentric, at times," Shining said, hushing the last part in wary caution of Luna's ever-present eyes and ears.

"She's your Princess. Why be so scared of her?" Shining gave him a sarcastic look before Harvey remembered. "Oh, of course, the whole Nightmare Moon thing... but she's changed from that, hasn't she?"

"Indeed she has, but there's always been that underlying..." Shining sighed. "Uh, you know what? I think I'm just being a bit stupid for talking like that. You're right, she's my Princess, and I should be as loyal to her as Princess Celestia. If my sister can look past that stigma, then so can I."

"That's the spirit," Harvey said half-heartedly, somewhat detached from the conversation. "Now, uh, I believe you had other things to attend to?"

"Of course. Have a nice day, Doctor."

"You, too."

With a final farewell nod, Harvey closed the door and turned around to the sight of all his work strewn about. The window curtains flowed peacefully as the sound of birds echoed outside the frames... it was easy to forget that there was actually a war raging on in what appeared—appeared being the key word—to be a utopian world so green that the whole country could be considered a national park back home.

Sitting down at his desk, he picked up a quill, still unused to the motions of dipping the quill for ink and actually writing it. Oh, if only he had a pen instead; his work would have certainly proceeded much faster with the aid of one.

"Now, let's see, where was I...? Oh, yes, I left off on countries..." Princess Luna and her lecture could stand to wait a short while, can't they...?
> Going Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The hums of military drills and various other happenings thundered in the background as a pair of eyes observed the military camp intently from a distance. A pair of griffons, oblivious to the watcher, flew above a rock-covered ridge, returning to their base from their patrols. The shimmering figure moved only slightly, shuffling around as he panned his eyes across the entire horizon.

“Scope to Talon. This place is a hornet’s nest. It might be easier if we can just hunker down and wait for them to go on the offensive before we strike.”

“It’ll have to do if we want to minimize casualties for our friends on the other side of the mountain range. Highcloud’s our next priority target, and we’re not about to let them catch a breather. Once they get wind that Whisper’s dead, things will get dicey, and fast. Report on enemy activity.”

“The whole place is just covered with griffons, both on the ground and in the air. I did notice something, sir. They have balloons traveling up and down the mountain next to Aerocem. You should probably check with Scarclaw about that.”

“Roger.” The line went silent for a moment, the sound of rushing wind on the plains his only company. Unlike Carseract, up north, things were considerably colder. It was fortunate that the Ghosts’ armor had already been insulated from most environmental climates, otherwise they would have had to risk wearing non-standard cloth to keep themselves warm. And if it was already as cold as it was here, moving north wasn’t going to be too pleasant.

On top of the ridge, Raymond had an unobstructed view of the entire craggy plains before him, with Aerocem and its associated mountain hanging in the background. Blocky obtrusions indicated that the base was situated directly out the side of the mountain, and the entire countryside surrounding the city had been turned into a camp for Strongbeak’s armies.

Talbot returned with hopeful news. “According to what I’m hearing, the balloons are a recent thing. They’re used to ferry supplies up to the base where they used to do it by elevators before. Those are gone now, and the change was most likely to make the base more autonomous, as the base can shut landing gates and deny entry on a moment’s notice. In addition, the whole city seems to be filled with hostiles, so this is going to be a short infiltration op. In, out, and on our way before anyone notices.”

“So, cleared to move forward, sir. Get up here to the ridge, maybe you can get a better look that way.”

“Roger. Talon on the way up.”





Talbot sat next to Raymond, putting away his own binoculars as he sighed. “Well, at least we have some element of surprise with us. Whisper’s death has been mostly muted, so it’ll be a couple of weeks at most, perhaps, until they get word that he hasn’t reported in. Assuming they can see through the magistrate’s ploy, of course.” The capture of the underground base meant that Whisper’s confidentiality seals for his intelligence reports still remained intact, an oversight on the deceased general’s part. With it, Leret’s father could easily fool Strongbeak into thinking he still had control over the city.

“I doubt they’ll be expecting an attack,” Raymond said.

“Most likely not. And even if they did, they would probably expect it from either griffons or ponies, so they’ll be keeping their eyes sharp on those. But the point still stands: we have to make it in quietly. When they find Highcloud dead, they’re going to be on guard for assassins. Assuming that they know what to expect, that is, and without Whisper, they’re going to have problems trying to do that.”

“High-risk infiltration,” Raymond said. “And through a whole city and up a mountain at that. Sounds like our sort of thing.”

“So what’s the plan then?” Mendoza asked. “We just hijack a balloon and float ourselves up there, kill the guy in his sleep, play it off like the spooks we are, and then ride off into the sunset?”

“If it were that easy,” Talbot said. “We’ll have to do things in a way that’ll make it appear legitimate. We’ll need a griffon crew to guide us up there while we stay hidden, and then hold their positions until we’re ready to extract.”

“Fellwyre’s been working in their military for a while. Maybe he knows,” Pastor said. “I think with a small group, Bloodfury and him included, we might stand a chance at making it out in one piece. The problem is trying to make their stay look natural while we take our sweet time trying to off Highcloud.”

“Ask Fellwyre about it. Maybe he could shine some light on this for us, and I’d rather not go in blind,” Talbot said. After a thorough grilling by Scarclaw, it was decided that Fellwyre could be trusted. A quick search through lineage files dating early on showed that Fellwyre’s family did indeed fall at the hands of Strongbeak, one of many prestigious families that fell from grace as Strongbeak rose to power. The only two survivors listed were Fellwyre and Whisper, where one joined Strongbeak’s cause almost immediately, and the other one seemingly disappeared from public gaze. At least, until the loyalists found him.

“Hmph. I’d sooner throw him off a cliff than trust him,” Raymond said, off the comm. “Guy still give me bad vibes.”

“You don’t have to. Scarclaw’s the one calling the shots here. He might be willing to hear you out, though, but as it stands, he’s exonerated of all suspicion. He was on the run from Strongbeak’s forces until he ended up in Carseract.”

“I can stand working with him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep a gun behind my back when I have to. But enough of that. I don’t see any viable points of entry from here. Gates are guarded, walls are guarded, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to sneak in underground any time soon.” A wave of shadows passed over their cloaked forms as several dozen-strong griffon air wings returned to their bases. “And the numbers don’t seem to be in our favor.”

“Smell that fresh northern air,” Mendoza said from down the hill behind them. “It was getting a bit cramped inside the hideout, so I thought I’d come out and stretch. Man, you know, I totally didn’t see all those guys last night when we snuck in ‘cause I couldn’t see for shit, but now, it’s just... wow, I don’t remember any Ghost squad ever taking on numbers this big. I don’t want to see what happens if we screw up.”

“Think of it like this,” Raymond said. “It’s a good way to make sure we still have our A-game with us.”

“Heh. Yeah. Totally no pressure,” Mendoza said, laughing. “When’s the raid going to happen?”

“Soon enough.” Talbot stowed his binoculars and headed down the hill as Raymond observed a small convoy of battle wagons entering the town. “We don’t want to overstay our welcome, anyway. They’ll find this camp sooner or later if we don’t make a move.”

“Roger, sir. Fellwyre reports that the griffon strike group may be able to impersonate a supply group from Carseract with some papers from Leret,” Pastor said. “There’s two problems, though. The first problem is that we’ll be sneaking through a gauntlet of soldiers as we follow the strike group through the city, and they’re on a timetable to deliver the supplies otherwise they’ll be in hot water. The second problem is, naturally, the way up.”

Mendoza’s form gave a quick salute to Talbot as he headed inside. Within the depths of the cave, a small fire sat burning and boxes of equipment sat stacked against the far side, with a table and a map of Aerocem sat on top with markers denoting paths of travel. “Well, what’s the problem with it?” he asked.

Pastor unrolled a scroll detailing the schematics of the supply balloon. “It’s only made to fit around three to four griffons, with the rest of the compartments allocated entirely for storage. There’s a good chance that they’re going to be suspicious when they’re off-loading if there are a few missing boxes to make space for us to hide in.”

“Okay. So are there any proposed solutions, then?” Talbot asked. Mendoza stretched as he came back inside, sitting down next to the fire as he listened in to the conversation.

“Well, one, of course. I hope you guys aren’t rusty with pull-ups, because we’re going to be hanging off the sides of those things on the way up.”

“Oh, great,” Mendoza said. “And here I thought we’d have some nice cozy seats away from the cold high-altitude winds as make our way up.”

“If you wanted the easy way, you wouldn’t have signed up for the Ghosts,” Talbot said. “How long is the trip up going to take?”

“Judging by the estimates from seeing those other balloons right now, I’d expect that it’ll take around ten to twenty minutes before we make it to the entrance. And we’ll be hanging off the sides the entire time.”

Talbot shook his head, sighing. “Are you sure there isn’t any other way to do it?”

“When a balloon goes up, they’ll expect the entire cargo bay to be loaded with supplies. Unless you want to take a dip into a supply bag and wait until they get you all sorted out in the storage bays—which could take days, I might add—there’s no other way to move things along quickly without drawing some major attention to ourselves,” Fellwyre said.

“Uh, yeah, my gear doesn’t exactly mix well in cramped storage,” Mendoza said. “I think we’re better off just hanging off the side with some ropes or something.”

“Ropes? I think that can be managed.” Fellwyre nodded towards a large bundle of heavy rope in the corner. “I think that will do. You’ll be hanging off the sides the entire time, and so long as they don’t get too curious, we’ll be able to sneak you in undetected.”

“And if that doesn’t work,” Bloodfury said, “myself or any other number of our Imperial Guard strike members can work the charm. Being an Imperial Guard means more than just muscle, after all; you have to know how the politics and the ballrooms work. We can keep their attention off of you long enough to sneak by unnoticed.”

“Okay, uh... great,” Talbot said. “I don’t think we have much in the way of intel or a window of opportunity here. We want to finish this before they start their offensive, that way we can put them into a state of emergency and disarray, maybe even force them to play things closer to their chest. By then, I hope we’ll be away from here and on to our next target by then.”

“Works better for us. When they think infiltrators, they’ll most likely assume it to be a griffon or a pony. The first won’t work because Strongbeak usually keeps his elite guard close to his generals, and the latter won’t work because ponies are too easy to spot. With your squad, they won’t even see what hit them.”

“I think they’re preparing to move out now. I’m seeing lots of troops on parade and in formation, and air cavalry seems to be moving southeast. Either the fight’s already started, or it’s going to get worse very shortly,” Raymond interrupted.

“We’d best move tonight,” Fellwyre said. “The local patrols are starting to get a little too close here for comfort, and we already have the disguises needed to get in unnoticed. But, still... what about trying to get into the city?”

There was the sound of ruffling as Leret returned from his own scouting patrol, cloak heavily wrapped around his head and shoulders. “Nothing of much to report. Security, as always, is still tight, and I’m having a hard time trying to get by the camp without being noticed,” he said.

“Did you manage to see any point of entry, though?” Bloodfury asked. “Any way that we can sneak in?”

He shook his head. “None, I’m afraid. There are so many guards on the walls that trying to fly in would be difficult, the entire army camp acts like a security system to stop anything else from getting too close to the walls. They still get supply wagons, though, which they check for in the regular ways.”

“Great. The wagon’s hidden in another cave not far from here. I suggest we move in during the evening, when the last of the convoys are expected in. From there, it’s going to be a nighttime raid on the fortress, and we’ll be out by the time the morning hits,” Fellwyre said.





“So, here we are again,” Raymond said, bumping into Talbot’s shoulder as they sat beside each other in the supply wagon. As usual, Mendoza and Pastor had taken up the seats on the other side, separated between with large bags of grain. “I hope this doesn’t become a normal thing for us.”

The dim moonlight cut into the cart, dimmer than the light their own crosscoms produced. There wasn’t really much of a plan, as they didn’t have much information. As far as things were concerned, they were going in blind. Even the minute details like guard checkpoints in the city were impossible to get due to the active presence of guards in the area. Loyalists within the city, what little there were, seemed to have gone to ground in fear of being outed.

“Man, I’m glad they gave us magnetics and NV for this mission. We’ve been passing guard after guard for minutes now. This camp’s huge,” Mendoza said. Shouts of officers and commanders throughout the camp were met with unified confirmations as the rumbling of thundering infantry steps began to shift throughout the camp. “And I’m pretty damn sure that’s not a good thing.”

The wagon slowed to a stop at an intersection, as Talbot’s magnetics caught sight of several battle wagons moving by them, rumbling by in front of them as they maneuvered towards the camp exit. “That looks pretty bad. I sure hope our boys back home are holding up alright,” he said.

“If we run into one, can I use my rockets?” Mendoza asked.

“Only if we run out of options. You should be more worried about not getting spotted in the first place, Fuse,” Raymond said, as their wagon creaked into motion again on their way towards the city’s gates.

“Get ready to move. We’re going to try to drop you guys as soon as we reach the balloon depot,” Bloodfury whispered from the driver’s post.

“Got it,” Talbot whispered back. Their passage to the gates was unhindered as they traveled along with a number of other supply wagons from other parts of the Empire, joining them when they had departed from their cave hideout only an hour before.

“Halt.” Talbot could see the profile of a guard holding up a claw for Bloodfury to stop the cart, as Fellwyre carefully shifted beside him in his Imperial Army armor. “Papers, please.”

“Right, here you go.” Bloodfury handed him his clearance papers, and the guard looked them over for a moment. After a minute, he handed them back, giving a nod.

“Alright, you’re clear to pass. I hear Carseract’s as much of a hole in the ground as it is these days, that true?” the guard asked.

“As usual. At least we can still get some supplies, right?” Bloodfury said, moving the wagon forward.

“Good for something, I guess,” the guard chuckled. “Next!”

“Well, that wasn’t so bad. If security’s going to be like this all the time, I think we can rest easy,” Mendoza said.

“Lax through and through, it seems. And here I thought the griffons were all about discipline...” Raymond said.

“At least it’s just the bad guys resting easy on their laurels. They’re so sure of an easy win and promises of glory from Strongbeak that it’d be dumb not to get feel a little too optimistic,” Pastor wondered. “But it strikes me as weird, though. Here we have our two little princesses capable of controlling the sun and moon, and these guys think they can go to war against them? Where’s the sense in that?”

“Maybe they have an ace in the hole. I know I wouldn’t start a war with a nation of magic-wielding... uh, people without knowing I had some sort of leverage against them.”

“True. Maybe we’ll find out about that later on. I mean, it just seems a real bit odd to gamble on having an army win the war against people that can fight back on even ground. Wouldn’t be surprised if they get a can of whoop-ass opened on them when they get to home turf, though... that’s the territory of our royal highnesses, after all,” Mendoza said.

“No, no, turn left down here,” they heard Fellwyre whisper outside. “Thank goodness the guard presence is lowered now. But—” They passed a loud and rowdy group of drunk soldiers. “—looks like they still have some on station, it seems...”

“If only Scarclaw was in charge...” Leret said, standing to the left of Bloodfury as they made their way down the street to the depot. “Such laxity would never be tolerated under his command.”

“Not like I’m complaining. Just makes the job for the Guard that much easier,” Bloodfury said. He pulled the wagon straight through the open gates, giving a nod to the two guards on duty, and parked the wagon in a darkened area, giving a furtive glance around him as he unhitched the yoke from his chest. “Alright, guys!” he said, loudly enough for any bypassers to hear. “Let’s get the supplies loaded up!”

Raymond peered out the small window on the wagon’s back hatch, only to almost jump back when Fellwyre’s helmeted face to show up in the window. “Get ready to move,” Fellwyre said, and opened the door up so the griffons could start moving the bags to one of the many balloons on stand-by.

“Well, how’s it going on there?” a balloon mechanic said. “Bringing those supplies on up to Stratus Highbase? Balloon’s here and ready to go, just have to open the cargo bay hatch underneath, and... there! Just load it up and you’ll be good to go!”

“Thanks,” Bloodfury said. “Last shipments in for the night?”

“Yeah,” the mechanic said. “Must suck showing up after the moon’s risen, huh? Not enough time to do anything except sleep since you’ve been hauling that thing from ancestors only know where. Done that myself a few times, actually.”

The Ghosts stealthed their way over to the corner of the compound, their path to the balloon landing zone immediately to their left. “Hold here, and wait until they have the preparations ready,” Talbot said. “Check your gear and make sure everything’s topped off.”

“Tell me about it,” Bloodfury said, continuing his conversation as he helped Leret and Fellwyre haul the bags into the caged compartment underneath the balloon. “So, I saw that the troops are starting to move out now.”

“Indeed they are. Not that I care one bit about that, of course. I’d rather be happy here running the supply lines than doing whatever it is they’re doing out there. Fighting’s not in my blood.”

“Soldiers can’t do everything by themselves, huh?” Their balloon was the last to remain as the wagon that preceded them began its ascent up the mountainside. “Hmm, looks like we’re the stragglers. Better finish up this delivery so we can catch some rest.”

“Hey, good luck with that. Just wondering, you know how to use these balloons, right? Hot air and all that stuff, and this chain, and the release, and all that stuff?”

“Of course. Why would I be here if I couldn’t?” Bloodfury said, laughing. And all Imperial Guards have training in the use of almost every single piece of equipment in the Empire...

Leret walked past him to the balloon’s basket, the rope slung over his shoulder. Receiving a quick nod from Bloodfury, he quickly began tying the strong rope on each side of the basket, one for each of the Ghosts. Away from the gaze of the mechanic, Fellwyre quickly checked to see if they could maintain their weight, using his own from his heavy armor to test the strength, and gave an approving nod to Leret above him.

The mechanic chuckled. “Heh, alright then. Just head on up and make sure you don’t crash this thing into a building on the way down, okay? Anyway, just look for me in the workhouse over there when you get back down.”

“Will do,” Bloodfury said, and watched as the mechanic hummed to himself as he walked to the lit workhouse in the distance. Joining Leret and Fellwyre in the basket, he looked around before giving the okay for the Ghosts to advance.

“Clear for go,” Talbot said, and they advanced through the now-empty courtyard, finding their respective positions on the basket’s sides. “Is everyone ready?” Receiving a thumbs-up via their own silhouettes, Talbot nodded and knocked twice on the side of the basket. “We’re ready.”

“Right, going up,” Leret said, moving the balloon upward as a rush of chilly wind slammed into the side of the basket as they cleared the rooftop level of the city. Talbot’s nose tingled as the cold stung his nose, unfortunately taking up the southern side of the basket that bore the brunt of the winds.

“Oh, man, this is a real bad time for those field rations to be kicking in now. Either that, or this cold’s getting to me,” Mendoza said. “Thank God for these exo-frames, but damn if this still isn’t heavy...”

“I’d say that we’re pretty damn lucky that the supply cage has footholds that we can use,” Pastor said. “Otherwise we’d be falling to our deaths due to the weight of our kits right about now. Not sure about griffons, but I’m pretty sure we can’t hold on to all this gear with our arms alone.”

“At least we have a nice view...” Raymond offered. “Glad I didn’t bring the old sniper rifle up here. Would be a pain in the ass to lug it through the whole place.”

“Bloodfury, which side of the basket is going to be entering the base first?” Talbot asked.

“I believe that will be the west side, if we can maneuver this thing correctly!” he responded, having to lean over the side of the basket and shout over the winds.

Talbot nodded. “Right! Shell, prep sensor grenade and drop it in the basket when we enter.”

“Yes, sir, sensors at the ready. Hope our little walk through the base isn’t going to be too inconvenienced.” Pastor tightened the grip on his rope when the winds shifted to his side of the basket, wobbling to the side as the high-speed shear threatened to throw him off. “Shit, talk about one hell of an infiltration job.”





“Deploying sensors.” Pastor dropped the sphere within the basket as the balloon floated outside the opening base gates, flooding their crosscom vision with dozens of yellow diamonds. “Aw, shit...”

“Full house... no pressure,” Mendoza said.

“Alright! Bring her in!” shouted the dock foreman. Several hooks shot forth from some deckhands as they struggled to bring the balloon forward. “As usual, store the food and goods down the hall on the left, warehouse three.”

“Affirmative, sir,” Bloodfury said. Nodding to Leret and Fellwyre, they hopped out of the basket and opened the supply bays as the other deckhands walked off to other docks to survey the unloading of other cargo. “Now’s your chance,” he whispered. “Go.”

Silently landing as the foreman shouted orders from his observation roost above, the Ghosts quietly regrouped behind a large pile of boxes, deliberating on their next plan.

“So, what’s the guard to civilian ratio in this place?” Talbot asked Pastor.

Pastor shook his head and pulled out the rudimentary portable map he’d replicated from the intelligence’s schematics for the base. “Best thing I can guess is that he’ll be up at the commander’s tower, and that’s deep within the base. Civilians will most likely be kept here on the outer grounds to prevent them from trudging further inside for risk of compromising sensitive talks.”

“And our timeframe?”

“Judging by the distance between our dock and Warehouse Three, and the speed at which they’re carrying the cargo, we have roughly around an hour before they’ll be scheduled to leave.”

“An hour. Good.” Peeking over the boxes, the doorway that led to the inner fortress was flanked by a pair of guards decked out in familiar armor. “Elites are guarding the door. Any suggestions, gentlemen?”

“Find another way through? Make our own entrance? Try to distract them?” Mendoza said. “Eh... yeah, that’s all I got. We could always just try to sneak past them...”

“This dock doesn’t have a lot of ways to get out... maybe we can get into the scaffoldings, try to see if there’s anything up there?” Pastor said.

“Better than nothing. Get your UAV up there and see if there isn’t anything we can’t use,” Talbot said.

Pastor pulled out the small four-rotored device, tossing it into the air above him as it activated with a muted beep. His crosscom immediately brought up the visual display from the UAV camera in infrared vision, and darted the UAV through the air, stopping at the side of the observation roost. “I see a doorway, in the back. It’s behind him, but I don’t know where it leads.”

“Probably to the second floor areas of the courtyard in the next area over.” Talbot looked closer at the map. “That’s where the staff of this base usually stay, in rooms arranged around the entire area. From there, it seems there’s a set of gates that goes further in. Send in the UAV and check.”

Bringing the UAV through the doorway, Pastor carefully zoomed across the head of a helmeted guard. The griffon merely yawned in exhaustion as he continued on his patrol, oblivious to the bug-like hum of craft as it floated over the courtyard.

“Reads clear. Should we proceed?” Pastor peeked over the box and noticed a number of shelves on the far side, some occupied, some not, as they gradually inclined towards the wooden beams that led to the scaffolding above them. “Route there seems clear, low light, mostly deserted.”

“Then let’s take that chance.” Pastor put the UAV into idle above the roof, away from any nearby eyes, as Talbot stepped out of the corner and edged across the exposed docking bay painted in dim torchlight. Looking left, Bloodfury and the other two had only reappeared at the end of the long hall joining the rest of the docks together as Talbot gave a thumbs-up when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

One by one, the Ghosts individually crossed over, providing overwatch until they had gathered, and moving up the shelves. The noise in the background easily covered for the small amount of creaking the old wooden beams gave, and they found themselves balancing carefully above the dock, the view of the city and the landscape beyond sitting before them obscured by wispy night clouds.

“Uh... watch your step,” Talbot said.

“Easier than walking over a tightrope...” Mendoza muttered.

Inching their way forward, they crossed the scaffolding towards the observation roost, pausing just before they landed on the deck as the foreman began another bout of shouting. “Alright, another balloon’s coming up! Dock seven’s about to finish up, so all extra hands divert to make room!” He turned away for a moment to take a swig out of canteen sitting next to him. “Damn late nights... never going to get this all finished...”

He turned his frustration on another crew of dockworkers as Talbot slowly stepped down from the scaffolding, landing with a thump. Carefully sneaking through the roost, he held his aim on the back of the griffon’s head the entire time, in the off chance that he should turn around and spot what would appear to him as ghosts trying to sneak into the base through the door. Eventually, each of the Ghosts took their turn moving into the shadow of the door’s hallway, lining up in the darkness as Talbot sat at the end, observing the guard making his way around for another lap.

“He’s on the other side, let’s move.” Talbot motioned for Pastor to move to the left, as the guard would be approaching from the right side, and they filed out one by one. Looking over, there were two sets of stairs, one on each side of the courtyard, respectively, and they quickly descended down to the courtyard proper, where a single guard stood dutifully as he fought against his drooping head.

Talbot held his breath as another group of guards walked right past them, barely an arm's length from where they sat, and turned into one of the rooms. He could catch bits of conversation speaking of banal guard duty, and tidbits of talk about the frontlines of the war... and lots of yawning.

“Sandman’s paying everyone a visit here tonight, it seems...” Raymond said. Pastor issued a return command to his UAV, catching it in the air as it folded itself back into storage mode, and giving a nod, they moved to the gates that led into the inner sanctum of Stratus Highbase.





“And... go.” Sneaking through the marbled halls of the inner fortress, they passed through several ornate displays of griffonic armors before coming to a stop at a set of ornate double doors. “Is this the one?” Talbot asked.

“No. Still further in. Estimate on time reads a little over thirty-five minutes now.”

“Running down the clock,” Mendoza said. “Wait, did you hear that?”

“Guards. Find cover,” Talbot said, as they scattered, melding into the shadows as a pair of elite guards walked around the corner conversing with each other.

“...sheesh, and you know things are up on the front. I heard the ponies have some crazy heavy weapons that totally smashed our battle wagons on the first go. So much for heavy armor, huh?” said one.

“We put so much of our stock into that, it’s a shame to see it all burn... but the boss is the one in charge, you know? Strongbeak’s call, not ours, but if he wants to throw away precious metal on making moving metal coffins...” They both laughed as they passed by the statues, unaware that Anvil Squad had their guns aimed at their heads the entire time.

“Yep. Totally aren’t expecting anything to happen tonight,” Mendoza said.

“Then it’s time to give them a rude wake-up call,” Raymond said. “We’re getting close now. I can feel it.” They continued down the hall, passing by more identical double doors, encountering little guard resistance until they paused at the location where the map labeled as the far end of chamber.

“Stairs, winding upward.” Pastor observed, crouching at the foot of the flight of steps. Tilting his head to look up, he pointed at skyward. “I see chandeliers at the top. I’ll bet that whatever we’re looking for is up there.”

“Then up we go,” Talbot said.

Splitting the squad to two on each side of the wall, they held their guns at the ready, scanning for possible threats as they moved upwards, eventually moving at a snail’s pace when they reached the end of the steps and ending up in what appeared to be a small atrium. A set of golden double doors awaited them as two elites stood guard on both sides, and an open balcony sat across from them.

“Well, that makes things awkward...” Mendoza said. “So how do we get in?”

“We could just shoot them,” Raymond said. “I don’t see any windows, and those doors are our only way in.”

“I’ll go check the balcony, see if I can’t see anything using the UAV,” Pastor said, heading out the open glass doors and hiding around the corner to avoid detection when he deployed his UAV. The device buzzed into existence, and he brought it upwards and noticed a lit window above the balcony. “So it’s a two-story suite, huh...?”

Moving off of the infrared view, he noticed a sill to his right, and climbed on top of it to see if he could manage to find a way up without having to use the doors. The wind was strong at this height, higher than rest of the foundation the base sat on, but his weight coupled with his exo-frame’s balance prevented him from falling over. Looking up, it was a clear stretch to the window, at an incline, but manageable without falling off.

“I think I’ve got something here, sir. Incline, up to a window.”

“Great. Moving up now.” Talbot joined up behind him with his comrades in tow, as he nodded approvingly at Pastor’s find. “Good work. Let’s move on up now. Watch your footing.” Pastor stowed the UAV again, letting Talbot step forward on the roof, thankfully devoid of frost.

They managed their way up the slope, the heavy stone roofing completely absorbing any sound that they made, and hunched up around the slightly-opened window. Within, a fire roared as a single lone griffon wearing decorated golden armor, bearing a crimson cloak like officers of higher note in the Legion, was positioned in front of a table. His face racked with concentration, he sat in front of a war map, oblivious to the Ghosts watching him from outside.

“There’s our griffon,” Talbot said. "Scope, move forward. You’re taking the shot.”
> Going Down
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Yes, sir.” Pastor moved to the window, aiming his obscured MR8 through the door, the silencer barely touching the frame of the windows. He steadied his breath and aim, letting the bead slowly drift on to the griffon’s head. The roaring behind them slowed to a low breeze, as the wind dropped off as well as being obscured by the large stone roof.

Then there was the sound of thumping coming from inside, and the door on the far side opened, revealing a messenger toting bags brimming with scrolls. “General Highcloud?” He retrieved a scroll and handed it to Highcloud. “A letter, from General Strongbeak.”

“Thank you, messenger,” Highcloud said, taking the scroll thoughtfully. “And here he said he’d be visiting personally.” The messenger bowed, leaving the room as quickly as he’d arrived. Highcloud cut through the wax seal on the scroll, and unfurled it for reading. “Hmm... really now? The project is proceeding along a lot better than expected... but it seems that the tables of progress have now inverted each other.”

“A project? Sounds important,” Mendoza asked.

“Willing to bet my entire gun collection that it’s their ace in the hole,” Raymond said. “Something that could help them turn the tide when shit hits the fan. Wouldn’t surprise me if it has something to do with dealing with our benefactors from the other side of the peaks.”

Highcloud continued his musings as he brought out an empty parchment to inscribe his own message upon. “Damn it, Strongbeak, resistance was far greater than anticipated... to think that he’d want to push the agenda so soon is pure folly. I swear, if I wasn’t here, he’d already have marched us right into their hooves...” He began writing at a quick pace, muttering to himself the whole time.

“Timeframe less than fifteen minutes now,” Pastor warned. “We’re going to need at least ten just to get out of here, and that’s assuming we don’t run into any trouble.”

“Take the shot, sir?” Raymond said.

“Do it.” By then, Highcloud had already finished his letter, and was beginning to roll up the parchment for delivery as a scroll.

The process was smooth and quick: Raymond quickly let loose a single round from his MR8, a small hiss escaping as the suppressor worked its technical magic. It flew true, finding its target directly into the side of Highcloud’s skull just as he was through sealing the wax, spilling blood on the table.

“Target eliminated,” Raymond said.

“Good,” Talbot said. “Shell, pop open the window, and head inside. We need to retrieve those documents. Scope, you’re on overwatch. Fuse, you and I are heading downstairs to make sure our door guards didn’t notice. Leave the window in the same way that it was before on your way out.”

“Yes, sir,” Pastor said, as Talbot followed back down the roof. He slowly pushed the windows open, stepping inside one foot at a time; Raymond maintained his aim on the door, ready to unleash a burst of rounds to any who entered. Pastor quickly rolled up the two documents and stuck them inside his utility pouch, and gave Highcloud a close examination. “Oh, he’s dead, alright. Let’s get out of here.”

He hopped out, closing the windows to their original state and quickly made his way down the roof to join Talbot and Mendoza, but stopped when he noticed that Raymond didn’t follow. Turning around, he saw the sniper picking up the lone brass casing, and storing it in his own pouch.

“Don’t want to leave any souvenirs,” Raymond said.





“Guards didn’t hear a thing,” Mendoza said, Talbot looking over his shoulder. Pastor and Raymond joined their observation of the oblivious guards until Talbot motioned them forward.

Inching back into the brightly-lit room, chandelier jingling above them as the winds outside resumed their turbulence, they quickly veered left and began down the stairs again. The sound of metal on stone came from ahead; Pastor and Mendoza, who were taking point on opposite sides as they descended the stairs, immediately stopped.

This was bad: they were caught halfway down, with someone coming up the stairs. The only thing they had going for them was that the light was partially darkened, being the only source of light around until they reached the torches at the base of the stairs.

“Up against the wall, and hold... very... still...” Talbot said. The camouflage had been tested have significantly less effectiveness at close ranges, requiring that the user remains mostly obscured behind cover or otherwise present themselves in a fashion that eliminates any telltale signs of presence, like shadows or profiles.

The lone griffon that ascended the stairs was dressed in the telltale armor of an elite, his helm clanking against his shoulder guards. He proceeded forward, as four invisible rifles remained pointed at his head; they all held their breaths as the griffon stopped between all four of them, suspicious that he had seen their forms.

“Aa... choo!” the griffon sneezed, nearly toppling his helmet off in the process.

The griffon gave a groan of disgust as he continued forward, muttering things about being sick and the damned weather. None of them dared to move until he reached the top of the stairs, in which they heard the sound of a blade being sheathed; Raymond had apparently brought out his combat knife, waiting to pounce and deliver a decisive killing blow as a contingency.

“Seriously?” Mendoza whispered. “You think a knife is going to work on a guy wearing that much armor?”

“Not if I could take him down before he could do anything,” Raymond responded.

“He could have alerted the guards up there by screaming or something.”

“Can’t scream if you don’t have a throat.”

“Why not just be all sneaky-sneaky and try not to raise the alarm here?”

“Well, if we did get caught, it would be either that or let him go yelling all the way up the stairs about how there’s some two-legged freaks stalking around the base.”

“Cut the chatter. Keep moving,” Talbot interrupted. There was a murmur from up the stairs as the guard who had just passed them initiated a casual conversation with Highcloud’s door sentries.

Proceeding further down the stairs, they returned to the secluded halls that they passed through while entering. Compared to their stint outside on the roof of the structure, the inside was much warmer... which was what must have lured in several shuddering guards, who now sat in the center of the corridor conversing with each other.

“Crap. More of them,” Mendoza said.

“Hold,” Talbot ordered.

“Clock’s ticking...” Pastor warned. “...and it doesn’t look like they’re going to be moving anytime soon.”

The voices from upstairs suddenly grew louder, and more urgent. Thumping steps rapidly descended the stairs, as the guard they had seen from earlier reappeared, his weapon held at the ready. His compatriots huddling in the halls gave a curious gaze his way.

“You two, guard the doors,” he said. “And you, get to our barracks and order the troops to assemble.” The ordered griffon quickly nodded and marched off to bring the rest of the elites to his superior’s assembly.

“What’s going on, sir?” one of the others asked.

“I just found General Highcloud dead in his study. And I just passed his messenger on the way inside. We’re going to get him and bring him back here for questioning since he was the last one to speak to Highcloud alive... which means that either he killed him, or someone else did.”

“Are you sure it’s the messenger, sir?”

“I’m fairly confident it isn’t... the guards recall Highcloud still talking as the messenger left, but we’ll have to bring in the apothecaries to check for poison later to see if he actually did have a role in this. For now, keep a low profile, and do not tell anyone else about this.”

“Do we even know who killed the general? Could it be a pony? Or ponies?”

“I don’t know,” the officer replied, annoyed. “But if it was a pony, it would have to be one especially skilled to have managed to make it up here without being detected.”

“Shouldn’t we lock down the base?” the same guard asked.

The griffon officer shook his head. “We... I’m giving the orders for this. Word of this is going straight to Strongbeak. Let us just pray to the ancestors that our punishment is merciful. The soldiers can’t know about this, especially not so close to our assault. It would affect morale in ways that I’d rather not think about. Now, to your posts.”

Shuffling away down towards the entrance of the inner fortress, the griffons quickly disappeared out of sight. Talbot motioned the Ghosts forward, now that the coast was clear. They ended down at the entrance, stacking up against the doorway, silently observing the two guards maintaining their vigil outside.

“So much for that,” Mendoza said. “I didn’t think they’d end up finding the body until maybe a couple of hours later, at least. So, long stairway down, mountains on both sides, and from what I can see, it’s the only way out...”

“Unless we want to be stranded here, I don’t think we have any other choice,” Talbot said. “Out the door, single-file, but take it slowly. It looks like the winds are picking up, so that might work in our favor.”

As if on cue, the winds blasted through the open doorway, earning them a visible shudder from the guards outside as torches wavered violently. The sky sat as a muddied dark gray in the sky as beginning signs of snow began falling to the ground. One of the guards muttered something in discontent to his friend under the din of the wind.

“Sure, just.... real slow-like, right?” Mendoza went first, obscured form slowly inching out the doorway as the rest of the squad followed suit. As they all filed out towards the beginning of the stairs, they again held the sights of their guns on the griffons’ helmeted heads.

“Cold. Always cold,” muttered one of the guards. “And now Highcloud’s dead, too. This day just keeps getting better and better.”

“I just don’t get how anyone could have gotten up here,” the other responded, more occupied with the clearly more important situation. “There’s just this accursed set of stairs that lead up to this fortress, with absolutely nothing else around for miles that anyone could have used to get up here. Highcloud has been adamant in keeping at least four air patrols active around here at any given time!”

“Do you think they could have gotten past us when we moved inside?”

“Absolutely not. You and I both know it, and so does Reigen, curse that lucky fool for getting sent to the barracks where it’s nice and warm. We were all standing in the halls that led directly upstairs, nothing in the way around us. If anybody tried to sneak in from the outside, the air patrols would have spotted them with absolutely no trouble.”

“I... honestly have no idea. As much as I’d like to say something about this, I won’t. Surprising, though, considering that we had both Gert and Iton guarding the doors. Nothing gets by those two without them noticing.”

“It might be magic. Pony magic. You know how they can use that stuff. Maybe they snuck in somehow.”

“Really? You really think that they somehow perfected a way to just do a long-range teleport all the way to Aerocem just to kill Highcloud? I could imagine better griffons to kill. Strongbeak or Red Talon, for one.”

“Not teleport. Maybe they have some crazy mind control magic and got one of our own or maybe they used invisibility or something. Argh, I don’t know. I feel bad for the captain... Strongbeak’s not going to be happy when he hears about this.”

“At least he’ll know what to do about it, at least.”

The conversation ended without much fanfare, as Talbot had to suppress his amusement; they were more right than they thought, at least when it came to one of the solutions, at least. They held a definite advantage over the griffons’ simplified thinking that their guests would either have been one of their own or a pony.

“Clear, and down the stairs,” Pastor said, breaking into his thoughts. “Double time now.”





Calling it ‘action’ was most likely an understatement. A good number of griffons clad in the armor of the elites now prowled the premises with a watchful eye, unsure of where to look but still observant for anything out of place. Their wandering forms were marked with the telltale yellow diamonds on the Ghosts’ crosscoms.

Several of the regular guard standing at their posts eyed them, giving worried glances. After all, what could have happened that required the elites to now be patrolling the common quarters? Any possible answer to that question was most likely not good.

“It’s a good thing we have this camo,” Mendoza said. “I’d just hate to see how we’d get out without being... well, a ghost.”

“Hang around right. We need to get up to the stairs again,” Talbot said. That would be a problem, considering that most of the outer sheltered halls for the courtyard were occupied with... more guards.

“If only it were that easy...” Raymond said. “Guards everywhere, some outside, some inside, no route through. What’s the call?”

“Why not just stick to the shadows under the halls, try to sneak by without being noticed?” Several bells rang in the distance as the foreman began shouting more indiscernible orders in the dockworks beyond. “Looks like they’re wrapping things up.”

Always with the guards. “Fine. Stick to the shadows, and move slowly,” Talbot said.

Moving through the hallway past the columns of the courtyard, one of the guard approached an elite in the center of the courtyard. “Hey, uh... sir, what’s with all the activity?”

The elite scratched the back of his head. “No idea myself, really. The captain said he wants us all on patrol and on our best behavior. Kind of strange considering he told most of us to take the rest of the night off just a couple of hours ago to celebrate...”

“Oh. Uh... did he say why?”

“Something about Strongbeak visiting in the future, might be really soon. Probably a good idea to get your barracks cleaned out and armor cleaned before he shows up. The general isn’t really one for sloppiness. Make sure the rest of your buddies know. It’s never a good thing for any of us if he gets... irritated.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Thank you, sir.” The guard quickly moved out of the chilly courtyard and ventured towards his right towards the barracks doors... and straight for the Ghosts, who had only rounded the first corner and were on their way to the stairs up when the griffon began his approach.

“Clear the doorway,” Raymond said. The squad split into two as the griffon casually opened the door and entered, none the wiser to the intruders immediately to his left and right. There was the sound of greetings inside and various joking as the guard entered, accompanied with a soft breeze of the heated interior as he closed the door. “Move.”

Mendoza, who at the moment was the point man, wordlessly activated a sensor grenade on his belt. The device produced more results from the dockworks as it continually pinged the area, but still remained accessible due to its position on the belt.

“Clever. Wonder why I never thought of that,” Pastor said.

“Well, these things used to be one-time use. But if we can re-use them when we need to, why not make them useful?” Mendoza said. “Now, keep moving. I swear my legs would have fallen off already if I didn’t have all this exo-stuff. I don’t know how 30K’s squad can handle walking around in this low crouch all the damn time; without the exos, it’s a pain in the ass.”

“Squats, squats, squats,” Pastor joked, following Raymond up the stairs, who in turn followed Mendoza. “It was a godsend they made these things.”

“Yeah, no more backbreaking labor, ‘cause we have—hold.” Pausing at the top of the stairs, another pair of guards passed by. “...right, ‘cause we have these things. The door to where we came from looks clear; we just have to trail these two guys until they pass by.”

The two guards continued forward, no bothering to share in conversation much like their companions; the cold gave them something too direct to focus on, and they begrudgingly wished the end of their patrol would come faster. Mendoza led their four-man line behind them, making sure not to bump into the boxes and barrels that littered the upper halls.

“Quietly now...” Mendoza said to no one in particular. He led their line into the foreman’s observation post, again sneaking by the grumpy supervisor as they filed back on top of the beams. Below them, Bloodfury and Fellwyre stood waiting with Leret nowhere in sight. A guard approached them as another balloon set off into the sky to descend back towards the city.

“You two, what’s the hold up?” the guard asked.

Bloodfury shrugged. “We’re waiting on one of our guys. He went to the bathroom.”

“Oh, right. Carry on then.”

“Sounds like our friends managed to stall,” Raymond said.

“It’s not like it’s hard... I mean, everybody here just thinks they’re workers. Who cares if one of them goes to the bathroom?” Mendoza said. “Anyway, we’re at the drop now. Watch your step.”

Dropping back down into the shadows where they ascended, several of the base’s workers began turning in for the night. Bloodfury looked around in worry, sure that the Ghosts would hopefully arrive in time before Leret returned and they were forced out.

“We’re overstaying our welcome, gentlemen, time to bug out,” Talbot said. They moved back behind the giant wall of piled boxes that they snuck around, as they regrouped in the shadows. He uncloaked within range of Bloodfury and gave a short inconspicuous tap on the box next to him, getting the griffon’s attention.

“Wh—oh, you’re back. Great.” Talbot silently nodded and recloaked as they waited for Leret to return. “Now to wait for Leret...” he muttered.

Two minutes passed before Leret returned, trying his best to casually stroll to the balloon as quickly as possible. That, however, was quickly brought to an end as the foreman shouted at him, mostly disapproval at them being the last to leave.

“Alright, alright!” Leret shouted back up. “We’re on our way!” He walked up to Bloodfury as Fellwyre took to the basket. “Uh... are they back?”

“They’ve been back for a bit now. You arrived just in time. It’s time to get out of here.”

There was a great amount of commotion down on the other side of the docks: a group of griffons flew into the docks, wearing the striped blue insignias of the air cavalry, and brought forth a screaming messenger, tossing him in front of a group of elites. He was then carted off unceremoniously as other griffons looked on with a mix of confusion and fear.

“I agree,” Leret said quickly. “Let’s go.”

Talbot motioned for his squad to take up their positions on the side of the balloon’s supply cage again, and with that, they escaped undetected. Mostly.





“So, mind exactly giving us the rundown on what exactly happened in there? We got a whole bunch of Strongbeak’s legion soldiers breathing down our necks after you guys disappeared,” Bloodfury asked.

“Well, we sort of killed Highcloud. And they sort of.. found his body,” Mendoza said, taking a drink from his canteen. He tossed a small bit of wood into the fire in front of him and stoked it for a while, happy that the frigid night fell after they’d returned back to their hideout.

“That’s... surprising,” Fellwyre said. “Normally, it’s mandated that the base be put under full lockdown, which would have made our escape with all four of you in tow take a lot longer than normal, and probably more difficult. What changed?”

“Their general, that’s what,” Talbot said. “They specifically mentioned that Highcloud’s death to be kept under wraps, and that Strongbeak was the only one to know about it besides themselves. They also mentioned something about morale.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it’s no wonder they wanted to keep it quiet.” Fellwyre pulled out some scrolls, and unfurled them across his makeshift box table. “It’s the eve on one of their supposedly greatest assaults on the Equestrians yet. All the generals have troops dedicated to this particular attack, so to hear that one of their officers, a general no less, was killed so close to the attack... it would severely dampen the fighting spirit of those on the frontlines.”

“So what if he gets killed?” Raymond said. “Don’t they have replacements?”

“Highcloud would be replaced in due time, like any griffon officer of merit who is taken out of action,” Leret replied. “But the nature of griffon military society means that generals do not get to their positions without achieving some semblance of respect from his troops. To hear that the general of one of the Empire’s most long-standing and esteemed military divisions was killed would most definitely affect the performance of all troops involved, but especially those that served under him.”

“Does that mean the troops are on his side? That they agree with this whole shpiel that Strongbeak’s spouting?”

“Most likely. Loyalty and glory are two very important pillars of griffonic society. Strongbeak’s propaganda is far-reaching and all-inclusive, giving promises of being able to deliver both... well, it’s enticing, but there are those who see peace as a more important ideal, to move beyond our more aggressive past and forge a better future. Emperor Arcus and General Scarclaw are two such griffons. The sides are pretty clear-cut on the issue, but it seems that we are the minority, while the military itself, under the guidance of Strongbeak’s command, lean towards their ideologies.”

“Well, most of us in the loyalists did serve under Scarclaw at one time or another,” Bloodfury said. “Strongbeak is going to want to look into this, see if there’s any way to catch those that killed Highcloud, but with Whisper’s identity under our control, we can deflect any attempt to oust you.”

“Aside from that, though... we did find something interesting.” Talbot said, and nodded. Pastor dropped the two scrolls they’d obtained from Highcloud on the table. “We found these right before we killed Highcloud. I’d wager that it’s pretty important.”

“I see the seal of the Bastion on one of the scrolls. A direct message from Strongbeak? This should be interesting,” Leret said.

Bloodfury opened up the scrolls and began reading as Fellwyre and Leret did the same over his shoulders. “Hmm... this project sounds worrying. From the looks of it, it seems Strongbeak has the Institute of Magic working on something for him.”

“Is it anything we should be worried about?”

“Honestly? Probably not. The Institute of Magic has less than several dozens scholars, so I can hardly see if they’re going to get anything massive done on such short notice. It was originally an organization created by Emperor Arcus as a way to study the beneficial effects of magic. You can imagine how much better things would be if we could use... say, telekinesis like the Equestrians, for instance.”

“So, what are the chances that we’re talking about a magical doomsday weapon here?” Mendoza asked.

Bloodfury scratched his chin. “Well... again, probably not. Most of the Institute’s focus was only on beneficial magic. Emperor Arcus himself kept a keen eye on most of their studies and research reports, making sure that they didn’t stray off the path. But things have changed, and we don’t know how much Strongbeak knows about magic, or how much effort he’s put into it... but whatever this project is, it was important enough for him to send a message to Highcloud about it.”

“We ourselves can’t really do anything with this information, but I’m sure our intelligence network may be able to help in learning more about this ‘project’,” Fellwyre said. “I know of several ex-Institute members across several cities in the Empire. Perhaps I shall try and see if they know anything. Until then, it’s best to send it to someone who can use it.”

“There are some dead drop locations here in the Aerocem highlands,” Leret said. “Scout group Obsidian is operating nearby, up in the steppes to the west. I’ll notify them about the information, and we can move on to the next city.”

“Right, so who’s the next one on the chopping block?” Raymond asked.

“General Castshot,” Leret said. “An apt name. Pretty sour, and grumpy most of the time, last I recall. But he has good combat sense, so there’s at least that. He operates out of the fortress city Kruvem, sitting in the middle of the plains west of the steppes.”

“Yeah, I read about that,” Pastor said. “Kruvem looks to be a real pain to get into. Almost as bad as Aerocem right now, but I don’t think this one’s going to go quietly. Especially not with how he operates.”

“What do you mean?” Talbot asked.

“He has guards around him at all times. A little paranoid, not Whisper bad, but it’s still going to be a pain to find somewhere nice and quiet to off him.” A single click sounded echoed in the cave as Raymond cleaned his M107, having it left to collect a bit of dust in their hideout when they embarked on their mission.

“Well, we’ll need things to help us plan our attack. City maps, the general’s daily schedule, anything,” Talbot said.

“That can be arranged,” Bloodfury said. “Heh, and here I thought General Scarclaw’s suggestion to keep maps of our cities outside of Tesseraka was a bad idea. Always thought it would lead to our downfall. Well, technically, it still is, but just in a different sense. The general has some on hand, but we’re going to have to get them delivered to us.”

“Excellent. So what else do you know about Kruvem?”

“Practically built on a solid foundation of natural stone. The city itself was built to be the sister city to Fortress Helmguard just due west of it. Unlike Helmguard, however, Kruvem is an actual civilian city, mostly inhabited by military families.”

“I should know,” Fellwyre added. “Whisper and I were raised there.”

“In any case, loyalist support from Kruvem is... low, to say the least, so we’ll be working off of entirely external aid with this one. Last I heard, they aren’t accepting supply wagons, either, since they have their own farmlands to provide. Soldiers guard the walls and gates at all times, and they’re not the slackers we had in Carseract; these are the real deal. Getting in is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“We’ll deal with that as we come to it,” Mendoza said. “Just making sure, we’re talking about huge walls and all that crap, right?”

“Yep, huge walls,” Bloodfury confirmed. “Kruvem was made to be impervious to direct assault. Being one of the first cities founded after our capital, you can see the influence of its defense architecture in our other cities, too.”

“Oh, and there’s an important thing I think you Ghosts should know,” Leret said. “General Castshot, as his name implies, leads the artillery division of the military. Kruvem and its adjoining fortress will definitely have warehouses scattered throughout with munitions that you find may come in handy.”

“So... what, bullets or something?” Mendoza said.

“No, you idiot,” Pastor said. “He means gunpowder... and explosives.”

“And lots of it,” Leret said, nodding.

Mendoza gasped, a look of glee slowly spreading across his face. He held his fists up in the air in triumph, pumping them several times before sitting down and uttering his single line of full contentment.

“Fucking jackpot.”
> Unknown Details
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“These battles have ramped up quickly,” Shining Armor said. “I didn’t realize that they had so many soldiers under their command... much less enough to actually launch another offensive so soon after their defeat. I guess they were just testing our battle lines.”

“But you have relocated the ballistae, right?” Harvey asked.

“They were the first things we had to move.” He levitated a few battle reports in front of him, switching his gaze from the correspondence and the map in front of him. “We took several casualties... small numbers, but still worrying. We routed their first attack only through the bravery of the 7th Pegasi Cavalry. Without them, the griffons might have blindsided our retreating forces.”

“I see...” Harvey took a long drink from his mug, filled with a brand of apple-based beverage that he’d become partial to during his stay. “The battle lines have shifted. Will there be a counterattack?”

“To show that we still have our strength? Most likely.” Shining’s brow furrowed in thought. “But I don’t want to make it a habit. We’re still rolling on having the Ghosts take out the generals as quickly as possible. The results from Carseract are very promising.”

A Night Guard stepped forth with another stack of sorted intelligence reports, but unlike the many times before, he made special care to actually levitate a pair towards them. The new reports were unlike their standard fare, instead decorated with red and gold flair on the parchment.

“Well, what’s this, then...?” Harvey said, taking one of the letters. Attached to it was a small note, written in a familiar handwriting which he read out loud. “Important information within. Not sure what it means, but both letters were written by generals. Could have something to do with our benefactors. Pastor.” He shared a raised eyebrow with Shining, who took the other letter with a flare of magic.

“This letter is...” Shining blinked, his eyes slowly following the contents of the letter. “The Eclipse Project? That sounds worrying... it says here that Strongbeak is trying to push for the project’s completion as soon as possible... and he’s using this war to buy himself time!”

“Time for what, though? What does this project do?”

“I... don’t know, really.” He checked the back of the page, only to find nothing else there. “Eclipse... eclipse...” he muttered. “He said something about your benefactors... could this project have something to do with the Princesses?”

“Very possibly. If our great rulers of immense and all-encompassing cosmic power are truly what they claim to be—no offense intended, just a little bit hard for me to wrap my head around still—then it would make sense that they’d have a plan for them specifically.”

“Yeah, but what are they planning to do? We had a... um, attack some time ago during my wedding, and it was during that time that Princess Celestia was overwhelmed. But this time, we’re fighting a more direct enemy, and our defenses are substantial. What could they possibly do?”

“Something, apparently, otherwise this ‘project’ wouldn’t even exist.” Harvey looked around the room, tapping his chin in thought. “Well, aside from the griffons’ obvious advantage in numbers, what are they capable of doing? I’m not entirely well-versed on matters of military affairs when they start involving things like magic and literal flying cavalry.”

“Magic,” Shining replied, grabbing a spare paper at the edge of the table and jotting down several notes on it. “There has to be magic involved. We’ve had fairly forward relations in the past, and they know straight up that they can’t fight the Princesses in battle. So they’ll have to find some way to interfere with their abilities somehow.”

“Do the griffons even use magic?” Harvey asked. “They seem to be more conventional counterparts to ponies.”

“Oh, they do use magic, just not as much as they have in the past. From what I know, they only have a small institution dedicated to the study of magic. With Strongbeak in charge, he might have them looking for ways to take down the Princesses.”

“Through what? Doomsday spells? Siphoning away their power? Crack the world in half?”

Shining shook his head. “That’s the tricky part... there’s a lot of ways magic could be used to fight against an alicorn. This Eclipse Project may as well have every single probable method in existence, and we’ll have to find some way to account for all of them.”

An echoed clunk from the staircase near them reached their ears, and before long, a member of the Night Guard entered, quickly trotting over to Shining and whispering something in his ear. The opliptera merely stood back afterwards, standing statue-still at attention as Shining sighed.

“Something wrong?” Harvey asked.

“Problems with moving the refugees. We’re doing too many things all at once, and it’s causing a backlog of problems that just keeps building up. The most recent of which seems to be a confusion in shipments between clothing and food, and that in itself causing an entire road to shut down because they realized that their whole line of cargo was going in the wrong direction.”

“Logistics problems, hmm?” Harvey said, shrugging. “Hopefully they’re getting sorted out in quick order.”

“They have, but the whole refugee group was forced to settle down where they were, and they can’t move out again until tomorrow.” He observed the number of blue-flagged markers dotting the southern part of the Equestrian map. “A lot of the settlements have only begun evacuating.” He looked at the Night Guard. “Notify Captain Edge of what’s happened. He’ll have this mess sorted out within the next half-day, hopefully.”

“Yes, sir!” The Night Guard gave a quick salute and marched back up the stairs, leaving the sound of whistling air as the sole ambiance.

“Ponyfeathers. Doctor, do you mind reporting this to the Princesses?” Shining asked. “I know how they like to keep themselves notified with these things, and the other officers are too busy dealing with their own issues to do it. Edge will probably jump on this as soon as possible, since he’s one of the Captains in charge of logistics, and he’s not half-bad at it, either.”

“Certainly. We can discuss this project business later, I guess.” Harvey stood, giving a courtesy bow before making for the staircase, only to stop in his steps once he realized he forgot something. “Oh, and Captain?”

“Yes?” Shining raised an eyebrow.

“About the weapons demonstration you wanted me to present to the Princesses... when will that be? I still haven’t replicated the bow yet.”

Shining hummed. “As soon as you can, but if I had to pick a day, it’d probably be sometime within the next week or two. There’s no pressure on you since we have plenty of other things to focus on. But that’s assuming you know how to use them... which you do, right?”

“I did have a rudimentary crash course in the proper etiquette of firing a bow from Corporal Raymond. I can only hope that it’s enough to properly demonstrate the capabilities of the weapon...”

“I’m sure you won’t fail to impress, doctor,” Shining said, nodding.

“Thanks, but we’re talking about an old man that’s laughably inexperienced with a blunt knife at best. I’m not holding my breath; perhaps we’ll see if my eyes aren’t as bad as I think they are,” he said, chuckling as he tapped the frames of his glasses. “Until tomorrow night! Farewell.”





“Now, as you can see here and here, Your Majesty, the griffons have begun their attacks to push our scouting operations back towards our territories,” a unicorn officer said, pointing at the sides of the pass they’d held when the griffons launched their assault. “We’ve pulled back since then, but we’re still holding the line.”

“And casualties?” Celestia asked calmly, but fearing the worst. Deaths were an inevitability in war, but it pained her to see her subjects thrown into such a morbid affair.

“Minor, Your Majesty. Several wounded, but otherwise only a few deaths. The 7th Pegasus Cavalry came to the aid of our retreating forces and held off the enemy in combat until the retreat had been completed and lines reestablished.” came the reply, and she let out a hushed sigh. Not as bad as she had feared.

“I am... relieved to hear of the outcome,” she simply said.

The officer gave an unbecoming snort. “With all due respect, Princess, our forces did give them a run for their money. Hay, it wasn’t until they managed to amass such large numbers that they finally managed to break through our defenses. No tactics, no strategy, just throwing all of their forces at us, with those damned wagons leading the charge. We’ll know what to expect next time.”

“Then see to it that you are prepared,” she said. “Is that all for the day?”

“Everything of note, ma’am. Until they attack again, anyway.”

“Very well. Then this meeting is finished.” The officers in the room saluted and then marched in single-file, faces never wavering until they saw Princess Luna standing outside, in which they all simultaneously gave a respectful nod.

“Sister...” Luna said, entering the meeting chamber. “I overheard. So have we encountered our first retreat?”

“Indeed. Though the results are much better than expected, especially considering the... numbers and ferocity with which the griffons fight.”

“Surely it must be the result of Strongbeak. It seems he is a very capable leader.”

Celestia looked down at the map, eyes drifting over the curvy font that labeled the griffon capital. “Perhaps. I did not meet Strongbeak in person during Emperor Arcus’ reign, but it seemed that he held great influence on affairs concerning the military. And considering the situation, definitely more than he led on.”

Luna sighed. “We certainly could not have predicted this happening...”

“But we shall see it through to the end, no matter how grim. Let us hope that our friends within the Griffon Empire are doing well on their mission.” She smiled. “So far, it seems they are faring perfectly fine.”

“So I’ve heard.” They turned to see where the voice had come from, only to see Harvey standing in the doorway. “Hello, Your Majesties.”

“Ah. Doctor Harvey. What brings you to the meeting chamber today? Or does it have something to do with your anticipated bow demonstration that we have arranged later on?” she asked, levitating a platter with a teacup before her and taking a dainty sip.

Harvey shook his head. “Nothing of the sort, Your Majesties, but I believe we should probably talk in private for this.”

“Very well,” Luna said, doors shutting as they glowed with deep blue magic, metal clicking as they locked themselves. “Fear not, I have already taken special care to ensure that unwanted guests cannot eavesdrop on us. One of the benefits of magic.”

Harvey chuckled. “So it would seem,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the door. “A lot of people would kill to have ensured privacy like that...”

“So,” Luna said, ignoring his comment, “what did you wish to speak with us about?”

“Ah, right.” He sat down in the empty chair at the head of the table, a luxurious armchair with red cloth hanging off the sides and comfortable for his frame. “We received a concerning report today, directly from the Ghosts shortly after they’d taken down General Highcloud.”

“Oh, so they’ve already neutralized him?” Luna said, amused. “Certainly quick work on their part. Yet they still launched their assault... the death must have been kept a secret.”

“That’s... actually very much correct,” Harvey said, pulling out his small shred of paper lined with notes. “Yeah, from the report. How did you guess?”

“I have a lot of experience with such things,” Luna said proudly. “Well, after all, did you not learn of this inside a facility that I constructed?”

Harvey’s mouth curved into a realizing frown, then he nodded. “Oh, right... in any case, there’s been a new series of developments that may be cause to believe that your lives are in danger.”

“Oh?” Celestia raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“There’s an ongoing effort into research for something called the Eclipse Project happening within the Griffon Empire’s magical institution... and Captain Shining believes it may have something to do directly with you two, given the name.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Luna said quickly. “We are not easy to take down, and even the kind of magic that can is immensely powerful.” She paused for a moment, collecting her nerves. “And outlawed. This was agreed upon by both us and the griffons. That is... right, sister?”

“You’re right, Luna. This was agreed upon by both sides, but we cannot overlook the possibility that they may have simply decided to ignore the treaty. Arcus told me that his magical studies were highly constricted and only focused on beneficial magic... or so it went. Strongbeak had been planning his coup for decades...”

“...and so he may have spent that time researching options for this Eclipse Project,” Luna finished. “This is... worrying. Doctor, has there been any other mention about this project? Locations, name, research... anything?”

“I’m afraid not, Princess,” he said. “It was a short letter from Strongbeak to Highcloud, and the response from Highcloud wasn’t any more telling. The only thing that we did get out of it was that Strongbeak wanted to push the agenda for this project forward, and soon; something that Highcloud seemed to object to. Everything else, no idea.”

“So it’s obvious they want us out of the way...” Celestia pondered out loud. What could they do? Such means required such great immense magic, and griffons were certainly no unicorns of any sort. Did they have defectors or prisoners working for them? That would make sense why they would use the diamond dogs to kidnap ponies.

But that would have gotten nowhere if their own research efforts did not get somewhere. They had to begin somewhere, had something to work on. But what? Every known magical artifact in existence that held the potential of stopping an alicorn was locked away in the Vault of the Elements.

“...the crown,” she muttered.

“Pardon?” Luna asked.

“The crown. You were not there for it, Luna, since you were... banished... during that time.” Celestia cleared her throat, dropping the subject before Luna inquired further. “There was a time, during Arcus’ crowning ceremony, where I presented an enchanted crown to him. It was meant to be an act of goodwill, and has no practical applications besides merely allowing its wearer to bear fatigue better than normal.”

“And you believe this artifact is now the key to our downfall?” Luna gave an exasperated sigh. “It is a wonder why no greater calamities had befallen you without my expertise in the safeguarding and security in my absence.”

“Is it not like you said, sister? ‘We certainly could not have predicted this happening...’?” Celestia retorted. “Arcus was never one for betrayal, but I admit that I did not take into account his subordinates... I had always assumed that he would have kept them in line. At least Quillfeather managed to warn us.”

“At the cost of his own life,” Luna added. “So this artifact now contains traces of alicorn magic which may or may not be reverse-engineered to bring about our own downfall. Well, there’s clearly only one way in which it can work now: siphoning.”

“Can we counter it?” Harvey asked.

“So long as they do not manage to get within close proximity to us, there is no problem, doctor,” Celestia said. “Magic siphoning requires a spell, or nowadays a device, to siphon magic out of a pony, and a vessel in which to contain it. It’s a very dangerous process that usually requires that you have an object with traces of the intended target’s magic within, otherwise it will never work as it cannot simply grasp magic from the air.”

“And even then, there is no vessel known to any creature of this world that has the ability to hold a magnitude of magic comparable to an alicorn’s,” Luna stated. “At best, they could only hope to weaken us, but our powers would still be immense.”

“So it was outlawed to protect your subjects?” Harvey asked, finding an unused quill and putting it to fresh ink for his new notes.

“Yes,” Celestia replied, looking out the window at the flying squadrons of training guards. “Ponies of all types have magic inherent to their kind. The act of siphoning is an ancient process, and I have seen fit that it has not become common knowledge in this day and age.”

“But the griffons seem know about it. Why?”

“They relied much more on using objects as a focus for magical use, once upon a time.” She still had faint memories of the first griffon ambassadors approaching her and requesting if there was somehow a way to help bring magic to their people. “But that gave way when they found other fields of progress better suited to their talents in engineering and metalworking.”

“But they have kept their magical academia intact.” Luna sighed. “Many things have happened in my absence... and with that crown, they have access to raw alicorn magic. A link to both her, and I.”

“What the heck can they even do with it? Try to turn your magic into some massive bomb?” Harvey asked. “I’m not an expert on the uses of magic, especially not one such as powerful as yours, but unless they’re going to walk up here and try to get it themselves, they won’t be able to do anything.”

“They can’t do much with it, not without a focus. Alicorn magic—or rather magic in any case—in its most raw state, like the essence drawn from an enchantment, is highly unstable, and any attempt to weaponize it would most likely backfire when they try to force it into a vessel for delivery,” Luna said. “Most likely the reason why they have done nothing with the crown so far.”

“Which is what makes it all the more concerning,” Celestia said. “Clearly, Strongbeak wants to see this project succeed, and his entire council is in on it. As far as everything else goes concerning its use, however, I am afraid I cannot offer any more on the subject. Your guess is as good as ours at this point.”

“Right... well... I think I better get back to Captain Shining about this as soon as possible.”

“Our gatherings still stand, I hope?” Luna asked.

Harvey nodded. “Yes, of course. Though it’s not entirely too complicated when it comes to geography... this landmass is much smaller than I thought it would be.”

“And the demonstration will be on-time next week. I would like you to devise a new blueprint for a refined crossbow, if that’s possible,” Celestia said, standing up and letting her mane once again flow freely.

“Oh...” Harvey paused for a moment, the imaginary gears in his head turning. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. Until then, good day to you both.” He bowed and walked up to the door, nearly jumping back as Luna opened it for him. “Heh... thank you.”

“Well...” Luna said, as soon as he had escaped earshot. “Do you still intend to bring your visitor along?”

“Hmm?” Celestia gave a look of confusion, before smiling. “Oh, yes, of course! Twilight has expressed her wish to visit her brother, and, well, I must oblige, shouldn’t I? She’ll be visiting next week with all her friends, a couple of days after the weapons demonstration.”

“...will you introduce her to Doctor Harvey? Will they stay here in the castle?”

“Her stay here is not needed. She is young, and these issues are a bit... unsuited for the talents of all of them. Ponyville will be fine. As for introductions... well, perhaps I should caution the doctor to stay inside for those days. If Twilight finds him, she’ll never stop asking questions...”
> Set Them Up The Bomb
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“I don’t think I’ve ever seen more cannons in my entire life,” Mendoza said. “And the old-fashioned ones, at that.” He laughed. “I bet there’s tons of gunpowder in there somewhere. Just have to find where they keep them all at, and we can just drop in and blow it all up.”

“No way.” Bloodfury creeped up the hill and joined Mendoza’s position as he sat behind a tuft of bushes. “Scarclaw wants the reserves kept intact! If we can capture Kruvem without completely blowing it up, we can turn the tables and use them on Strongbeak’s forces.”

“Well, what if we can’t take the city? What happens then?”

“Then we retreat, assess our losses, and see if it’s still not worth taking. If it isn’t, then we blow everything up to deny them their precious powder.”

“So you guys are serious about this?” Mendoza huffed, nodding towards the crenellations bursting with cannons. “We’re supposed to fight our way past those guns?”

“Not if we can help it. We’re tunneling our way in.”

“Won’t that take forever to do?”

Bloodfury shook his head. “Not with the automated diggers that we managed to pull from Carseract’s old mining warehouses. The drills are still in working condition, and the machines only needed some replacement parts to bring it back up to working standards.”

“Nice. So that’s what all that hardware was for? I thought they were battering rams, or something.”

“Heh. Would have taken forever, but we managed to bring in one, at least. It’ll do for now. Don’t want them getting suspicious. Now let’s get back inside. The patrols are about to sweep this area.”

They gave the intimidating stone walls a parting glance before slinking their way back down the hill, towards what appeared to be an unassuming piece of shrubbery sitting all by its lonesome in the desolate spot it had made for itself. Bloodfury looked around the skies for a moment to ensure they weren’t being watched before giving the ground a hard trio of knocks.

“You know our sensors would pick up anything over or around the hills, right?” Mendoza said.

“Can’t take any chances,” Bloodfury replied. “Sometimes, some good old eyeballing does the job just fine.” The ground slightly parted, pushing the shrubbery up and revealing the concealed trap door underneath.

“Back already?” Fellwyre asked, looking up at them. “Hurry, get inside.”

He backed down the ladder and stepped back, giving the pair some room to land inside as they hopped down the passage, avoiding the ladder and trying their best not to slip on their landings. “Impressive,” Mendoza said. “That drill’s pretty quiet.”

“That it is,” Fellwyre said, brandishing his lantern and leading them through the cavernous hall. “They actually use magic, believe it or not, to alleviate the shock and lessen the risks of the tunnels collapsing. Not always effective, but such safeguards lowered the fatalities.”

“Magic...” Mendoza said, shaking his head. “I still don’t get that stuff. And I don’t think I ever will, really.”

“Heh. Sometimes even the best of us griffons have no idea how it works,” Bloodfury said, giving a throaty chuckle before clearing his throat, displeased with the dryness of the Griffon Empire’s northern climate. “Takes a lot of work for barely any results. That’s why we usually left this stuff to the ponies.”

“I get you...” They entered a larger cavern, brightened by an assortment of torches stretching along the walls and revealing a room full of idle equipment and soldiers busy preparing themselves for the inevitable assault. “Nice to know that we have backup this time.”

“Taking a city like Kruvem? We’re going to need it.”

“So... what if the entire army just turns around and tries to take this place back?” Mendoza said. They continued down another flight of stairs, passing by a group of griffons busy at work as they inspected the contents of the boxes they’d brought with them: swords, armor, supplies, and clothing, among other things.

“Scarclaw wants this to be our first victory and our starting point for taking back our home,” Fellwyre said. “This is where we make ourselves known. We want Strongbeak to see that we’re not broken and we’re not scattered. We’re organized, united, and dead serious about putting him where he belongs.”

“Yeah, on the executioner’s block,” Bloodfury said. “We’re funneling in more reinforcements by moving off the roads or using disguises, but what we have here is more than enough for it: enough griffons to number Kruvem’s garrison, and a large contingent of Imperial Guard. That’ll give them something to shake their beaks at.”

“And then there’s us...” Mendoza added.

“Oh, of course.” Bloodfury gave an approving nod to a group of Imperial Guard suiting themselves up in their trademark golden armor. “But as usual, you’ll be doing work behind enemy lines, hamstringing them where it matters the most while we draw their attention away by luring them to the combat zones.”

“So, what happens if they point those cannons the other way?” Mendoza asked. Bloodfury maneuvered their group around the space, going in a zig-zag pattern as he weaved between groups of Imperial Guard to check up on them, and to prevent the lessers from getting a glimpse at their trump card. Not much of a problem, considering that the camouflage maintained its effects when not outright running, and the darkness did well to obscure the rest of his form.

“They won’t. Kruvem’s too important to blow to bits, being the main supply line to Aerocem from Fortress Helmguard to the west and Tesseraka further up north. The wall defenses only point outward to deter and fire at invaders, anyway. Can’t risk up blowing up all that powder, after all.”

“Huh. Handle with care, I guess,” Mendoza said, nodding. “So, anything interesting happen back south?”

“Aerocem’s in a state of hushed panic,” Fellwyre said, as they took a turn down a hallway and approached the war room, guarded by a pair of Imperial Guard standing at attention with their halberds. “And Carseract has been picking itself up rather nicely. We’ve gotten tons of support since the city was taken, and the army forces there have no idea that we’re in charge of it now.”

“Nice.” They entered the room and all eyes turned on them. “Greetings, esteemed comrades,” Mendoza bowed with a flourish. “Anything new?”

“Nothing much. But our intelligence reports that we’re going to have a hard time trying to get set up in the city without getting shut down quickly,” Talbot said. “According to one report, Castshot’s set himself up in the fortress at the northwestern end of Kruvem, and has outfitted it with cannons.”

“Damn. Those weren’t there before,” Bloodfury said, shaking his head. “I don’t know much about Castshot, but I’m really hoping he doesn’t get paranoid and start shelling the city while his forces are still in it.”

“That’s why I talked to you about those explosives, Fuse,” Talbot said, standing at the head of the table. “We can get into the city, but if they manage to pin us all down at the entrance, we’re done for. Scarclaw says that he can’t send any more drills our way, since the forces near Aerocem are ramping up their own patrols westward, no doubt in response to Highwind’s assassination.”

“Ah, right. I checked those reports,” Fellwyre said. “They’ve grown suspicious that their own griffons are planning on turning against them. Fantastic work, though, since they’ve no evidence that any outside party managed to kill him. The only ones present there the entire time were the guards, and that messenger that they caught. He pled innocence and they let him go, however, so now their guess is as good as anyone’s.”

“Great. That’s how it was supposed to work,” Pastor said, sitting to Talbot’s right as his helmet sat on the table. “No trace, but I guess it was nice they didn’t point fingers—or talons, in your case—at the loyalists. Gives us some breathing room.”

“As far as things go...” Bloodfury took off his own helmet and looked at the room’s hanging red-painted banner of the Griffon Empire. “...they still think we’re... well, dead. That the loyalists are on the run, weak, disorganized. Here is where we show that we’re still ready in full force.”

“No witnesses in Carseract?” Raymond asked, recalling how the city had turned into a battlefield during their pursuit of Whisper.

“Correct.”

The sniper smirked. “You guys sure work fast.”

“Easy to bend the truth when we’re the ones in control of the quill,” Fellwyre said. “To Strongbeak, it was simply an uprising from pony sympathizers quelled by ‘friendly’ forces, and I’m sure he hasn’t gotten around to questioning Whisper’s leadership.”

“Probably too busy dealing with Highwind’s death,” Bloodfury muttered. “Two down, five to go. At least Snowfeather is now working with the data gatherers. Our reports from the home base have been more organized as of late, and it helps a lot when we don’t even have to skim through it to find what we need.”

“So what was that about explosives?” Mendoza asked, pulling the conversation back on track. “You said you wanted something big, so I delivered,” he said, nodding towards the pile of barrels sitting at one corner of the room.

“We need to blow open the gates of Kruvem’s fortress,” Talbot said. “When we start our attack, he’s going to retreat inside and most likely try to hold out until reinforcements arrive, or until we’re dead. We’re not going to give him the opportunity to do that, and we’re not going to bother risking soldiers to fly up and try to take the gatehouse.”

“Ah... a door knocker,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “I concur with this plan of action, sir.”

“Correction: door knockers, plural,” Pastor replied. “We’re also sending a whole bunch to the eastern city gates to create an entrance so our regular forces can get in, after the forces sent eastward from our tunneled entrance can disable the cannons.”

“Why not just open the gatehouse?” Mendoza inquired.

“You ever try opening a gatehouse when you’re surrounded by enemies?” Bloodfury said. “It’s definitely far from easy. Those things take time to open, and for something as large as griffonic city gates? Opening them could take minutes. In peace time, they’d normally be open all the time with a guard detail. During wartime, though... we make our enemies work if they want our cities.”

“Right... well, I’m sure that’ll be fine for whichever poor bastard ends up having to rebuild that stuff.” Mendoza pulled out his MR8 and checked the magazine. “Still good on bullets for now, at least. The stakes are rising and I’m in no hurry to use my bow...”

“So long as don’t overdo things, we’ll be fine,” Talbot said. “Now...” He tapped his finger on the line that planned out their route of assault towards Kruvem’s castle. “...do we have anything else on what’s inside?”

“Guns. Big ones. Possibly bigger than the ones stationed on the outer city walls,” Bloodfury said. He reached into his bag and pulled out several hefty scrolls, spreading them out across the table. “The designs have been put into production now, so it wasn’t too hard trying to obtain them.”

“I assume the one on the bottom is the regular cannon comparison...” Pastor said, rotating the scroll towards himself so he could get a better look. “Damn, those are some pretty big guns.”

“So do we smash those, too?” Mendoza asked. “Man, I wonder how we’re going to get to this guy, all turtled up like that.”

“And that’s where our forces come in,” Fellwyre said, sticking a dagger straight into the center of the city map. “We’re going to try to storm them by numbers. The rest of the groups are hiding out in various settlements around the city, masquerading as farmers or other simple folk, or otherwise holding back until the signal to strike is given.”

“And that would be?”

“We burn etchwood grass, a special kind of grass that’s only found near the outskirts of Carseract in the marshlands. It’s known for its ability to turn smoke red when burning. That’s what we’re counting on,” Bloodfury said. He again delved into his bag, and pulled out several strands of the darkened brown-red plant and dropping them on the table.

“A lit arrow is all we need to light this,” Fellwyre said. “We’ve collected enough to create a plume of smoke that will be seen for quite a distance around the region.” An Imperial Guard, greatsword slung over his back, entered the room and whispered something into his ear. “Uh-huh... thank you for notifying us.”

“Something concrete?” Pastor asked, watching as the Guard left the room. The size of griffonic weaponry certainly gave the Ghosts ample incentive to avoid being detected.

“Yep. Castshot himself has been sighted in the city. Last we heard, it was mostly just rumors.” Now Fellwyre stick his claw in his bag and pulled out the file on the general. “He travels a lot, naturally. The guns are in use everywhere in the Empire, and definitely on the frontlines. He likes to evaluate the readiness of the guns himself, and it looks like he’s just stopped back in town.”

“Good,” Bloodfury agreed. The same Imperial Guard re-entered the room, this time whispering something to him. “The drill is slowly working its way closer. Within the next day or so, we’ll hit the city walls, and that’s when things will have to slow down. Can’t risk detection through tremors, so we have to take our way through the wall’s foundations real slowly.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good time for us to get a final lay of the land,” Pastor said. “Scope, you’re with me. And Talon,” he said with a nod to Talbot, “we’ll report back our findings. Here’s to hoping we might actually find something interesting.”





“Village coming up... watch your step, water on the right.” Pastor led Raymond along a small pond, entering the side of an open village. Within marched groups of griffons and wagons, the never-ceasing supply caravans coming to and fro, marking a standard day in Kruvem’s routines.

They entered a small alley, hugging the walls as they stopped at the corner, watching a pair of griffons pull along a cannon through the muddy town street. From their position, they could see straight down the lane towards the gargantuan city gates, which stood closed in the distance. The day’s quotas of caravans had already ended as the night began to fall, and so the gates were no longer required to be open.

“Checking the walls,” Pastor said, lowering into a crouch as he pulled out his binoculars. “Nowhere good to set up the D-kit, so I think we’ll have to do without it this time.”

A bleep went through his helmet’s speakers as Raymond activated the sensor grenade on his belt. “At least we still have these,” he said, tapping the orb.

“Right...” Pastor’s vision was partially obscured as rain began drizzling down on them, and he fought the urge to sneeze when a rogue wind blew through the alley. Puddles began to collect in the narrow space, but the corner space had an awning that left them dry; the sight of their bootprints parting the liquid could have served as a dead giveaway to their presence to more observant eyes.

“With all the medieval defense stuff, you’d think they’d actually bother to build a moat for one of these damn cities...” Raymond said, crouching behind Pastor and hugging himself to preserve his heat; biting cold and worsening rain did no favors for those unfortunate enough to be caught in it.

“Yeah, but at least they love their torches...” Pastor called back, his voice mixing in with the rain, marching boots, and squeaking wagon wheels. “The gate’s all nice and lit up, and I can still spot the guns from this distance.” He flipped over to the night-vision and swept his vision left and right: the cannons seemed to have been retracted into the walls as their familiar cylindrical shapes were nowhere to be seen, closed doors in their place instead. “Well, I guess I did. They retract them inside when the weather gets bad.”

“Probably don’t want to end up cold,” Raymond said, sniffing. “Wind’s picking up.”

Pastor deposited the binoculars back to their position on his belt. “Let’s not wait for us to turn into popsicles, then. Backtrack the way we came from, and try not to slip.”

“Mud’s going to leave tracks.”

“...shit,” Pastor said. “Fine, stay on the hill.” He walked past Raymond and stopped at the opposite corner, peeking his head to look for a less risky path back. “There’s... I see a house, three blocks down northeast, with what looks like stone steps leading through the meadow and stopping just short of the hill we came from.”

Suddenly, a shout caused him to flinch and immediately straighten up against the wall. Instinct kicked in and both he and Raymond immediately turned around, rifles at the ready, only to see a griffon soldier standing at attention in the pouring rain as he was chewed out by his superior.

“You idiot!” the officer, identifiable by his plumed helmet, shouted. “Did you not check any of these barrels before you put them on the wagon? All of them quite clearly say ‘for authorized use only: infused blackpowder’! This shipment was meant for General Castshot’s fortress! Get your scrawny ass back to Kruvem now and hope you don’t get chewed out by Castshot himself for this oversight!”

“But... uh,” the soldier responded dumbly. “Does it matter? It’s all just the same blackpowder, isn’t it?”

The officer merely shook his head in disappointment, rubbing his beak like a father disappointed with a son’s delinquent antics. “No, you idiot, it’s called infused blackpowder for a reason! Castshot’s cannons require this special kind of magic-infused powder to operate his guns, and if you fire this kind of potent powder from a regular cannon, the only thing we’d end up with is a bunch of dead gunners and a useless weapon! We can’t use this on the frontlines, now take it back!”

“Then why don’t we have those cannons on the front—”

“Did I say you could talk back?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why is your beak moving and not your legs? Get out of my sight!”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir.” He brought the wagon around into a U-turn and started heading down the empty stretch of road, passing by his comrades as he did so. Many bore expressions of sympathy... no griffon wanted to end up in such a disparaging position in such dreary weather.

“Some new gunpowder, huh?” Raymond said. “For the big guns, too.”

“Worth looking into,” Pastor said, motioning to move down towards the small house they had originally been planning to relocate to, but instead going straight along the block of houses instead of detouring towards the building’s farther location. They stopped at the end of the row of homes, taking cover behind a crumbling chunk of what used to be a wall of a house.

“...damn walk, in this rain... hope the ancestors give him his just desserts...” the soldier grumbled, now alone as he stepped into a puddle, cursing again.

“What’s the plan here?” Raymond asked.

“I want a sample of that gunpowder,” Pastor replied. “Wait here and keep an eye out for trouble.”

“Roger.”

Matching speed with the sluggish wagon’s pace wasn’t much of a problem given the weather. Nor was getting into position near the back of the wagon, as Pastor tried to locate something in which to hold a sample of infused powder, his cloak holding as the wagon approached a bridge standing above a river bursting with raging waters. Eventually, he found a small patch of ragged cloth leftover from his gear-cleaning habits that worked suitably well to hold the powder.

Rain barely flowed from the wagon’s few open spaces, the barrels having been packed tightly together enough where most of its inner contents remained dry. In extension, that also meant any rogue samples of infused blackpowder, and wooden barrels, however sturdy and well-made they may be, were never really known for their capabilities to effectively hold a substance which had the consistency of sand.

Slinging the MR8 strap over his shoulder, he slowly moved his receiving cloth tray and a free hand forward, sweeping over a clump of the powder the size of his thumb, and expediently wrapping the cloth around it before withdrawing it back into the pouch on his back belt. He stopped, letting the wagon continue its journey unobserved, and was glad to see that, at the moment, there were no other griffons around.

“Got the sample?” Raymond asked. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Right after you,” Pastor said, nodding towards the hill. “Just watch your step.”





“So, this... ‘infused blackpowder’ was being transported to the fortress in Kruvem?” Bloodfury asked. The blackpowder sat on the emptied table in the war room, where all eyes upon it scrutinized its strange properties, assumed in part due to its faint shimmering glow that fluctuated between shades of blue and purple.

“For use with Castshot’s mega-cannons, it seems,” Pastor said. “Must be some kind of powder if big guns have to use it, instead of, say... more gunpowder. Or blackpowder, as you guys call it.”

“I’ll bet an arm and a leg that this kind of powder makes an even larger boom than normal,” Mendoza said, excitedly dancing around the table as he continued to examine the powder. “Damn, would you look at that...? It’s like somebody mixed regular powder with magical glow dust or something.”

“Well, at least we know what Strongbeak’s doing with the Institute of Magic now,” Fellwyre said. He poked at it with one of his claws and brought it up to his face, squinting as he slowly rubbed it. “My assumptions are that this infused blackpowder reduces the amount needed to fire the cannon, especially for the ones as large as the fortress’.”

“So, bigger boom than normal?”

“Most likely,” Fellwyre replied. “I know for certain that magic has special combustive properties when applied as a raw enhancer to certain components... much like what we’re seeing here.”

“Can we test it?” Mendoza quickly asked.

“No,” Talbot said. “If this powder ends up producing the force of a crateful of TNT, we’d be buried alive, on top of having our plans go down the drain.”

“TNT...?” Bloodfury asked with a raised brow.

“Makes a really big boom.” Mendoza imitated an explosion with sound effects. “Big enough that we used it for mining and other such things requiring the immediate displacement or removal of large amounts of... stuff.”

Bloodfury grimaced and nodded. “Well, with weapons like yours, I can’t say that I’m surprised you have stuff like that. And the captain is right: we can’t risk bringing all of this down on our heads. Ancestors confound me, this is the first time I’m hearing about this myself.”

“Okay, so no testing. But if Castshot’s got all this crap stored up in his fortress, what are we going to do with it?” Mendoza’s question was laced with a tone of curiosity; there was untapped potential with this powder... that could perhaps be used to create more potent explosives.

“That’s yet to be decided,” Bloodfury said. “As it is, the only thing Scarclaw has told us was that only Kruvem itself needed to be taken intact. I doubt he cares much for the fortress considering that it was only constructed within the last ten years, and he probably has his plans revolving around its old city plans, back when griffons fought other things instead of each other.”

“So, if shit really hits the fan, we can just blow the whole thing sky fucking high?” Mendoza said. “Aw, man, now I’m really hoping he ends up turtling. Then we just infiltrate, rig the explosives, make our way out, sit back, and watch the fireworks! BOOM!” He clapped his hands together. “So, gentlemen—and griffons—when do we begin?”

“As soon as that damn drill actually makes it through,” Bloodfury said. “But...” He paused. “No, no, that won’t work. We don’t have much in the way of safehouses or a tunnel network for transportation in Kruvem like we did in Carseract.”

“Thinking about sending us in first?”

“If not to at least get a lay of the city, mark all the warehouses containing blackpowder, infiltrate important facilities, mark targets of interest, and all that regular intelligence crap,” Fellwyre said. “Looks like you’ll be going in with the rest of us. Unless you’re really up for it, but I’m sure we can work something out...”

“I’d imagine that the moment the drill breaks the surface in the city, soldiers will be all over it. Well, considering that we have to surface somewhere with ample breaching room—” He looked pointedly towards the big circled ‘X’ on the large city map on the wall, right on top of Kruvem’s market square. “—it’s a given that the response will be quick, and I’m not sure if we can guarantee your safety during the rush.”

“Wait... no.” Bloodfury turned around and looked through the other various scrolls piled high against the wall. “We might not even have to go entirely into the city. Maybe enough to breach the walls and create an insertion point for the Ghosts.” He tossed one after another aside until he found snapped his claws, raising a scroll into the air.

“Whoa. You can do that with those things?” Mendoza asked.

“Takes a bit of practice, but yes. In any case, here.” He rolled the scroll out: the contents within labeled the undercrofts of nearly every building in the city, and the city’s own compact sewer system wired all around them. “We can find somewhere to drop you off so you can get in without having to go with us. The sewer systems are too narrow for our own to use, but humans fit the profile just perfectly, for the most part.”

“So... can’t just sneak into the fortress through that?” Pastor asked. “Would be helpful if we could...”

“The fortress has its own sewer system, and those we don’t have the plans for.”

He shrugged. “Damn. Well, it was worth looking into. Would have been easier if we could just go in, snipe the asshole, then get the hell out.”

“Well, we’ve got a day, more or less, to consider our decisions.”

“Into a market battlefield or wading through sewers full of crap...?” Mendoza wondered out loud. “You know, I’d rather take my chances with not dying. I mean, what’s to say that they won’t start flinging arrows at the marketplace breach the moment they come out?”

“Well, we have shields...” Bloodfury said. “You don’t.”

“Yeah, see? We’re better off doing what we do best. Maybe we can sneak in and set up the explosives at the eastern gates?”

Bloodfury tapped a wooden barrel next to him that was half as tall as he was. “You mean these things? No offense, but I don’t think you can carry these.”

“What about those powder explosives you made, Fuse?” Talbot asked.

“You mean these pansy-ass things?” Mendoza dropped a pair of the spheric explosives on the table, roughly the size of his fist. “Fuse-detonated. They’d work well as a grenade or breaching charge, but a gate that big? Might as well throw toothpicks at it. The casks were already a pain in the ass to work with, and I don’t think they come any bigger than that.”

“Do they work?”

“Uh... I guess so. One of the Imperial Guard engineers put these together for me. Said it was a little on the small side, though, but it’ll work just fine. Been taking some of them apart to see if I can build some of my own later on, and it doesn’t seem too complicated. I’d like to whip some up with infused gunpowder, though, and test them out with extra-long fuses.”

“Well, we still have our own grenades, don’t we?” Pastor asked.

“Yeah, frag, flashbang, and some EMPs,” Talbot said. “But save those for emergencies. Stealth is our primary weapon here.”

“And I still have my C4s, and a couple of breaching charges,” Mendoza added.

“So it’s decided?” Bloodfury interrupted.

“Yeah. We’ll be taking the sewers in. What’s our task then?” Talbot asked.

“Get into the fortress before our attack starts, and hopefully try to catch Castshot off guard before our attack begins. If you can’t take him out before then, just let us lure his forces out of the fortress and then you can get to work. He won’t expect an attack from within.”

“Great!” Mendoza said, making for the door. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”





Their quarters sat silent, the humans within slumbering on their beds when the sound of footsteps entered. “Anvil!” Talbot shouted, fully suited up. “It’s time to move!”

“Ugh... aw, what?” Mendoza feebly muttered. “What time is it?”

“Early morning. The drill has just made contact with the wall, and the griffons have cleared us an entrance into the sewer system. We’re going in now.”

“Well, got some sleep, at least,” he grumbled, putting on his boots. “Attack’s going to be soon, then?”

“They make good progress on it and we might see some action by the afternoon. As it is, we’re going in to see what we can learn, and then we’ll be on our way to the fortress.”

“What about the rifle?” Raymond asked, gesturing to the M107 sitting on top of a crate next to his bed.

“Leave it. It’ll be too heavy, and we can’t count on Castshot being willing to present himself for a kill shot. We get inside and try to locate him as soon as possible, and situation allowing, kill him and get out before the attack starts.”

“And if we don’t manage to kill him before then?”

“Expect increased security and Castshot to relocate somewhere deep in the fortress. Which means that we’ll have to go inside and do things the hard way. Imagine if we had to assault the base above Aerocem if they locked down the whole place before we got in.”

“Doors locked, guards on alert, patrols all over the damn place,” Mendoza said, locking the exoskeleton frame into position on his body.“Reminds me of our operations in Europe. Nasty stuff.”

“Then you know what to expect,” Talbot said. “Now let’s get moving!”
> Slogging through K-Town
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The ground shook as the sound of a wagon trundling its way down the city streets could be faintly heard above them, echoing through the occasional grate that transmitted the noise straight from the surface down into the cold, dank tunnels that Anvil now walked through. Once in a while, the shout of an officer bestowing his orders upon his subordinates could be heard: faint catches of movement orders and assigned guard details meant that the city was far from asleep.

“That’s a lot of noise,” Mendoza said. “You think they’re expecting something?”

“Two of the generals are dead,” Raymond replied. “If I were them, I’d probably order my men on extra guard duty and make sure all my exits are covered, like right now.” He stepped in something squishy and paid it no mind as Mendoza voiced his disgust with a gag.

“Ugh, I can’t believe we’re stepping through this crap...”

“It smells like shit—literally—but it works,” Pastor said, batting away a thick hanging of cobwebs before walking through it, ducking his head to avoid any unwanted arachnids from taking refuge on his helmet. “The cold’s pretty good at keeping the smell down, though... now it just smells like misery instead.”

“Something that you’d know first-hand, I wonder?” Raymond asked, his chuckle ending abruptly as he nearly tripped over a rogue rock protrusion. “...fucking rocks.”

“Live up in the mountains enough, the smell sort of becomes the least of your worries. Assuming you can still smell after a good day out in the cold... heat fixes that pretty quickly. Unfortunately, it seems that these suits aren’t exactly as well-insulted as I thought they were.”

“Not to mention that mine’s still a bit wet.” The feel of dampened cloth could be felt underneath Raymond’s shoulders, the protective armoring eliminating the fabric’s chance to breathe in order to dry off. “Boots are still good, though. Can’t say the same for my elbows since it feels like I’m trying to move like a mummy in here. Shit, these tunnels are cramped.”

“So how long do we have to walk before we reach our target destination?” Mendoza asked, the dull blue glint of his crosscom visor darting around in the faint darkness as he looked around the tunnel. “Seems like we’ve been walking straight for a long time now.”

“Readout says that we’ll be hitting the destination in several minutes,” Talbot said. “Hang tight.” The growing sound of falling water alerted them to larger chambers nearby; the map had detailed several large chambers dotted around the city, and were used as a central area where the sewers all flowed to before funneling off to the northeast.

“Destination being...?” Mendoza was about to ask, before Talbot held up a fist, signifying a stop. The group peeled off left and right, hugging the walls as they stopped to listen to... nothing. Several moments of tense silence accentuated with the sound of flowing water followed, until Pastor took the initiative.

“What’s going on, sir?” The tunnel they were in was completely empty save for themselves, and the only other possible entry route was back from the griffon tunnels. Any outer entry into here from above would have required removing the sewer hole covers from above, and that noise would have reverberated throughout the entire network.

“The wind’s different.” He pointed forwards, at a faint gap on the right side of the tunnel, in the dark. “Air is rushing that way. No doubt flowing through there, if I’m guessing correctly. It’s another tunnel off our right, but our destination is straight ahead. Let’s keep moving.”

Plopping of boots hitting water returned, and they slowly inched their way down the tunnels, guns raised. Then twice that night, Talbot against ordered them to hold and kneeled, his squad following his crouch as they activated their camouflage.

“Lights,” Talbot answered for them. “And talking. Hold tight.” He leaned as close to the edge as possible, hearing the din of voices quarreling amongst each other approach them.

“...down here? I can’t believe this! All the eggs in his nest are all gone, I say! Poof, cracked, completely smashed! Totally out of his mind now! Can you believe him? An attack from the sewers of all places...” A pair of griffons stopped within Talbot’s view, one holding a torch as he listened to his partner ramble. “This whole system is self-contained! It smells like something died, I’m cold, and I was ordered to muster in the middle of the night for this?!”

“Relax, Pertoi. If we make it through this patrol, we can report nothing happened, and we can head back to sleep or move to somewhere warmer, at the very least.” The unnamed griffon shuddered. “I agree, though... it’s very cold. Why can’t we be on the frontlines fighting alongside our kin? The Equestrian lines have put up a greater defense than we thought, and they’re going to need every griffon for the assault!”

“It’s ‘cause they want to use all those infernal wagons that they keep bringing in from the west, Sorell. You know how Strongbeak’s been wanting to have something that could hold an offensive? Well, he got it. And now those bastards are at the forefront. They don’t even have any legion training, how the hell can they be considered soldiers?!”

Sorell shrugged, flapping his wings several times as they brushed against the walls. “Too damn cramped in here, and my wings are starting to feel sore from the cold.”

“That’s because your armor’s been put on incorrectly.”

“Huh?” Sorell checked himself, pulling on several straps and rearing up on his hind legs, letting his one free claw check the armor. “Damn, you’re right! Maybe it wasn’t the cold, after all. See, this is what happens when you throw discipline out the window and order men to assemble for patrol not ten minutes after the lights go out.”

“Yeah, well, deal with it after we get back. I want to get this patrol over with,” Pertoi whined. “Come on, this way. The damn geezer wants us to check in the central chamber before we return.” The two griffons continued down on their side of the tunnel, disappearing out of sight as the light began to fade. Talbot stood up, about to order them forward again when a scream shook the air.

“...agh, damn it!”

“It’s just a rat, Pertoi. You aren’t scared of rats, are you?”

“Damn vermin! Yes, I hate rats! Damn little buggers bite and slash at you, and they carry disease with them! And now I wish I hadn’t looked down, because I think we’re standing in shit! Can you believe this, Sorell? We are griffons of the legion, the proudest the empire has at its beck and call, and you know what we get to do? We get to wade through shit!”

“We could always request a transfer out of here, you know. Maybe join up under a different commander, or maybe a different general’s legion?” Sorel offered. “But I don’t think they’d be willing to do that until after the war is over...”

“Okay! That’s it! Enough talking, I just want this damn patrol over with! Give me that torch, I’ll lead the way! I can’t believe this...”

A small snicker came from behind Pastor, who looked over his shoulder to see Mendoza shaking his head. “I sort of feel sorry for those bastards,” he said.

“I do, too, but that’s subject to change depending on whether or not we run into them later on. Keep the camo on, maintain pace,” Talbot said, feeling the water drain out of his kneeguards as he stood up, a most frigid feeling. “Target destination is up ahead... just beyond the central chamber.”





A quick dive into the other tunnel revealed it to be a sister to the one the Ghosts had been traveling through; a parallel line of tunnels, one of which the drill had broken into as the griffon engineers had planned it to, that moved north to connect with the city center. Maps were provided and from there, they had to work their way through the dark towards their exit, located close to the fortress gates.

“Great, so these guys came from somewhere... and that somewhere has the potential to ‘accidentally’ find our entrance spot,” Pastor said. “What do we do? Leave things to chance and hope they don’t suddenly get the urge to go spelunking? I get the feeling that these guys are more thin than they think they are.”

“If they do end up finding it, the solution’s simple: we kill them,” Raymond said.

“So long as they keep up their patrol, there’s that chance.” Talbot said. “Until then, we keep an eye on them and make sure their patrol ends as boringly as possible. We make it to the central chamber and observe them until they do so, and then we can keep moving. Better for all of us if they report back that they found nothing down here.”

“So who gets to watch the back door?” Mendoza asked. Before any of them could respond, he held up a hand... and slowly pointed at Raymond. “Give the Angry Woodsman a chance to use his knife.”

“No complaints from me,” Raymond agreed. “If they so much as take a step into that hall, I’ll kill them where they stand.” He tapped his knife holster and crouched down, moving a hand to activate a sensor grenade on his belt. “And if they come down this way... I’ll know.”

“Good. The rest of us will keep moving,” Talbot said. The three continued to slog through the tunnel, as the rush of water intensified as they neared the central chamber. Over the rushing water, the griffons had split off into two directions and were circling around the chamber as they shouted their responses to each other.

“So much water down here!” Pertoi said, having obtained his own torch after swiping one off the sconce on the wall next to him. “I can hardly believe that all this sits right underneath the city!”

“Hmph. Think any of this goes up to the fortress?” Sorell asked. He waved his torch towards the wall and looked up at the small beam of moonlight shining from a tiny grate perched away in the farthest corner. Talbot ordered a split between the three of them: Mendoza broke with Pastor along the left, and himself on the right, and they trailed the griffons carefully, making sure to stay on the stone steps to prevent footprints in the random patches of dirt around them.

“What, thinking of sneaking some of that infused powder out for some giggles?” Pertoi said, snorting as he suddenly caught himself before sneezing. “Urgh... my nose...” he muttered.

Sorrel shrugged. “No... well... maybe. You know how the grifflings love them when we put them into fireworks, when the general is in a good mood. Since we’ve gone into wartime, things have been so stiff. Nothing but schooling and studying for them all day, and it’s absolutely killing the morale among the civilians here.”

“Strongbeak likes his control, no doubt about that.” A small crumbling of rock again nearly made him jump. “Eek...! Ah, damnit. Thought it was rats again.”

“You sure you’re not just scared of rats, instead of hating them?” Sorell prodded. “You know, because you’re acting awfully antsy since we’ve come down here...”

“No, I’m not...” Pertoi shuddered. “I’m just... yeah, okay, fine. I’m scared of rats. Had a bad run-in with them when I was a griffling and can’t stand the little buggers ever since.” He swung his torch around his claws, searing the cobwebs closest to him. “Not that this place is doing me any favors... let’s just finish circling around here and head back.”

“But the commander said we had to patrol the sewers,” Sorell replied.

“Correction: he told us to investigate the central chamber, not the entire sewer system. If anybody was trying to sneak through here, we would have found signs of them by now. Moved cobwebs, tracks, even lit torches if they wanted to see anything beyond their beak down here. Besides, most of this place was built for size; we can’t even fit into most of the tunnels except the main ones. What makes you think anyone else can?”

“Well, the loyalists might have already come through here and we would never have known...” Sorell reached the end of his arc and looked down the hall. “Where’s this one go?”

“Leads to the market square, I think, just a dead end,” Pertoi said, walking up behind him and looking down the darkened passage with apprehension. “Tons of cobwebs. Looks like no one’s been here in years. I mean, come on, you see how old this torch is?” He held up the hilt to Sorell’s face, putting the aging wood and cracked metal buckles on it in plain view. “No way anyone’s going to be crazy enough to move through here.”

“I suppose they didn’t count on us...” Mendoza said, as his profile on Talbot’s visor stopped and crouched down, his MR8’s tracer line pointing directly at the back of Pertoi’s head. “Hoping this doesn’t go south...”

Another line appeared from Pastor, who had taken up position behind Mendoza and was aiming over his shoulder at Sorell. “Two marked, ready to fire on your word.”

“Hold fire,” Talbot said, stopping halfway across his arc and observing the griffons as their body movement became more erratic; they waved at the passage in front of them and pointed fingers at where they’d come from.

“...come on, we should at least check,” Sorell said. “Just to make sure.”

“We’re going to be down here for another hour, you know that, right?” Pertoi said, sighing and rubbing his beak. “The chamber underneath the market square is huge! Not to mention that it’s normally supposed to be accessed from the north side of the market, not from the south residential districts.”

“Yeah, I know that. But I just want to cover all of my bases, just in case. And I’m pretty sure neither of us want to cross on the surface just to go back down. So let’s just go have a look-see and we’ll head back if there’s nothing.”

“You are being so persistent about this. If that’s the case, then you can go. I’ll stay here.”

“I bet you’re just scared of rats. Funny how much you can learn about someone during a simple patrol,” Sorell joked, patting Pertoi’s shoulderguard. “Relax. I shall go myself. You can stay here, where it’s nice and safe for someone like you. And next time, I shall ask the commander for someone with more backbone when I go on patrols.”

“You—I am not a coward! It’s not my fault that rats always scurry about like they do, hiding in the walls, and possibly breeding in such dank conditions in large numbers. If I could swing my sword at them, I would,” he said confidently, tapping the weapon at his side.

“I’ve yet to see you do that,” Sorell said. “Alright then, not-coward, let’s go see if we can’t find anything, eh?”

“Fine! I accept your challenge.” Pertoi stepped forth with conviction, only to have his confidence melt in seconds as he stopped and stared straight into the black abyss before him. “Erm... on second thought, you lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Psh, chicken,” Sorell said. “You’re supposed to be the griffon that defeated half the company in unarmed combat, and you end up like this. Come on now.” He drew his sword and began using it to part his way through the cobwebs as Pertoi did the same and immediately caught a rat right off the bat as it tried to sprint past them.

“Aha!” Pertoi shouted triumphantly, jabbing his blade at the small shape’s unmoving body. “I have to admit that they looked a lot scarier in my nightmares...”

“Everything looks scarier in nightmares,” Sorell deadpanned. “At least something good might come of this night, after all.”

“Moving up...” Mendoza said, he and Pastor tiptoeing in after the pair from a distance as they held their sights trained on the back of their heads. Talbot followed in after them and checked his map: the market square was their destination, and they were set to exit just a stone’s throw away from the fortress gates.

From there, they were supposed to infiltrate while the base was on low alert. The fortress required its gates to be open for several cases, including fire emergencies and supply transfers; that was their key in, and it wouldn’t be too hard to achieve. The difficult part was reaching the inner fortress: unlike Aerocem, whose base had standard security and the difficulty lay in reaching it, Kruvem’s fortress was a labyrinth of halls and doors, and it was safe to assume that security would be more substantial than something as lofty as an airbase.

“Destination up ahead?” Mendoza whispered.

“Right up ahead, just northeast of the market square chamber,” Talbot said. “We’re on the right track.”

“Good to know.” Without Talbot’s visor telling him otherwise, their camouflage did a good job of blending them in, even with the griffons’ torchlight. The faded colors of the dim blaze only allowed their profiles to blend in with the walls.

“These bricks have a lot of history in them,” Sorell said. “I can only imagine what it was like when they first built Kruvem... er, you doing okay back there?”

Pertroi looked at him with wide eyes, holding the torch in one claw and his sword in the other with death grips, as he balanced himself on his two hind legs. “What? I’m fine. Never been better. Just looking for more rats to kill.”

“Hmm,” Sorell said, raising an eyebrow at him. “I guess you really do need sleep, after all.”

Pertoi shook his head. “I’m fine... just... kind of tired. You know that feeling when you’re so tired that you just feel too awake? Kind of like that.”

“I’m kind of worried that you’ll be swinging that blade at me if I let this go on long enough. These tunnels are so small... would have been easier if we could fly through them.” Sorell kicked away a clumping of web, eventually stopping himself as he realized that they were already in the market square chamber. “Huh. That was quick.”

“Let’s just finish up here so we can head back,” Pertoi said.

“Spread out and check for anything suspicious.” The market square chamber didn’t contain a large pool in its center, so the patrol path was more erratic as they meandered about the room, checking the barren room for any signs of living or entry.

Pertoi yawned as he sheathed his sword and scratched the tuft on his chin. “Got nothing here, Sorell.. Anything on your end?”

“Just some dust and rocks for me. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for ages.”

“See, what did I tell you?” Pertoi continued on his diagonal path towards the northwest corner and nearly jumped back when a sea of glittering eyes stared back at him. “Sweet ancestors defend me!” He drew his sword and began hacking away at the ground as Sorell turned around to look at him.

“What are you doin—oh. Found a pack of rats, eh? Shouldn’t be surprising... they must frequent the market stalls when no one is around,” Sorell said, spectating Pertoi as he chased them around the room. “Alright, looks like there’s nothing here... we can head back now.”

“And... got him!” Pertoi immediately responded, sheathing his sword and walking back towards their entrance tunnel, letting the remainder of the rat pack scurry away into the other tunnels. “Yeah, now let’s get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“Scope, they’re on their way back. Keep an eye out for them,” Talbot whispered into his comm. The light from the torches faded away as the griffons left, and after several seconds in the dark, a trio of faint clicks could be barely heard as their nightvision began to kick in.

“Roger. I can spot their torches from where I’m at. Will move to your position after I make sure they’ve left the area.”

“Good. Fuse, Shell, we’re moving forward,” Talbot said. “Look for the heavy door hanging off the right side of the wall when we enter the northeastern tunnel. The ladder inside is our exit.”

“Oh, so now they use ladders,” Mendoza said.

“You built a place as cramped as this and you don’t really have any room for stairways unless you want to tear something down,” Pastor said. “Those guys were right: this place is old... they might not have built the sewers until after the city was laid down.”

Mendoza reached the corner first, leaning around the corner to see if there was anything down the way; when he reported it clear, Talbot and Pastor continued forwards, easily catching the doorframe of their exit near the end of the tunnel. Their advance was considerably slower as the area had been riddled with even larger quantities of webs than usual.

“Lot of webs down here...” Mendoza said, looking over his shoulder every few seconds as he followed Pastor. “Talking colorful ponies, actual griffons, magic... might as well throw in some giant spiders or fire-breathing dragons to make this authentic, right?”

“Stack up,” Talbot ordered. They lined up next to the door: Pastor on one side and Talbot and Mendoza on the other. With a quick check to see that the door’s handle was still intact, Pastor nodded to Talbot to give the ready to move in. “Go.”

In the span of several seconds, Pastor flung the door wide open and stepped back as Talbot and Mendoza rushed inside... only for Talbot to meet a faceful of wall and ladder rungs, and Mendoza the back of his commanding officer’s helmet. It was not a room, but rather a simple passageway that went straight up into the heart of the city.

“They cleared out of here pretty quickly,” Raymond reported in. “Moving to meet up with you guys now.”

“Affirmative.” Talbot looked at his two squadmates, then pointed up. “Let’s move topside.”





“Looks like we’re inside someone’s basement,” Raymond said, pulling himself out of the hole in the ground and sliding the cover shut. “And... crosscom’s picking up tons of tangos. Great.”

“Not a basement. There’s light coming from behind that shelf over there,” Talbot said, moving over to the window and taking a look beyond. Glum city streets with a lamppost off in the distance providing what little light it could from its flickering bulb onto the wet streets as the rain continued to fall from above. The sky was a hazy dark grey as a small rumble of thunder in the distance gave signs that it wasn’t going to cease anytime soon.

And directly off that street was a stone arch with a pair of guards wearing familiar golden armor standing on guard, spears held at their sides as they maintained their vigil underneath small checkpoint awnings, safe from the rain.

Talbot turned back to the squad and judged their current position. They were in some sort of utility shack, as tools strewn about and hanging on the walls certainly gave no other impression. He checked the door to his far left to see if there was a lock: with a grip on the door handle and a slight push that didn’t give way, he assumed it was locked from the outside, and the windows were fixed.

Not as if that stood in their way. He put his MR8’s barrel up against the flimsy wood where the lock would have been, and pulled the trigger. The bullet found purchase and pierced through with a ping, undetectable in the torrent outside, and the resulting force slowly pushed the door open.

“Smooth,” Mendoza said.

Talbot stuck his head out and was greeted with the stench of what he usually acquainted with alleys: trash, rot, and something worse, only made worse by the humidity that hung around in the air. And just off to the right at the end of the alley was the street: and a chunk of the slope could be seen gradually inclining up beyond a wall.

“Pastor, you’re with me. We move in twos,” Talbot said. “Don’t want to end up getting all offed at once if we get spotted.”

“Assuming that they even know how to react,” Mendoza said humorously. “Maybe their wonder at seeing their first human will last long enough for us to pull a flash or a smoke and make a getaway.”

“Or kill them,” Raymond said.

“Yeah, but that’s messy. And ops always go off better when we’re not leaving a trail of dead bodies in our wake. That whole Raven’s Rock incident left a pretty bad taste in my mouth... I mean, come on, it’s kind of hard to use plausible deniability if we’re dropping everyone like flies around here.”

“Just stay down and don’t make any noise,” Pastor said. “We get in, get inside, and bag the target. Easy in, easy out. If we make good time, we’ll have it all done before the attack even starts, which is in...” He checked his wrist PDA. “...roughly two hours, give or take a couple since they’re going to be hitting the place at dawn.”

“Then we’d best get moving,” Raymond said. Pastor formed up behind Talbot and they both moved outside, shuffling down the alley and then across the street, taking up cover at the corner of the wall, where they could see the guards. The walls had been lined with jagged fencing at the top with considerable length, preventing them from using their exo-skeletons to bound over.

“So... only one way in?” Pastor asked.

“Only way there is, it seems. Enclosure’s wrapped around the base of the hill, with that gate being the only way through. Unless one of you guys brought something that can cut through metal rods quickly and quietly, we’re going to have to sneak past those guards.”

“In plain sight? With respect, sir, this camo’s not that good.”

“The other alternatives would be to wrap our way around to the middle of the lane that leads up to the fortress, and we sneak in through there instead of going right in front of them, or we hop on top of their little checkpoints and hop in that way instead,” Talbot said. The current options didn’t leave much for distance.

“We have some large boxes here in the shack, about as big as we are,” Mendoza said. “Think we could use those?”

“Sounds good. Shell and I will provide overwatch while you and Scope set them up. Agreed?”

“Better than meeting those guards up close,” Mendoza said. “Come on, dude, let’s get these boxes moving... up and at ‘em... alright, first box is on its way...” he continued with after a few grunts of exertion.

Mendoza’s profile became visible as he exited the shack, the front of the box carried behind him on his hands as Raymond took up the role of supporting the object on the other side. They creeped towards the corner before stopped looking around for make sure any curious eyes wouldn’t see a giant treasure chest of a box being carried by shimmering ghost people..

“Are we clear?” Mendoza asked.

“Clear as can be. Get over here,” Talbot said.

“Alrighty, turn and... drop.” Mendoza and Raymond lined up their payload against the wall, and slowly crouched and let it fall onto the ground with a short crunch. The box was as high as their waistline, but the wall was far higher than that. “Uh, right... more boxes,” Mendoza said. “Kind of funny, you know? It’s like a video game, trying to stack all these boxes so we can jump over the fence to get into the enemy compound...”

“You going to help me with this or what?” Raymond interrupted, already back across the street and heading into the shack.

“Shell, check that box. I need to know it can handle our weight.”

“No problem.” Pastor moved to the top of the box, giving a small hop. The box managed to hold out quite well, making almost no noise aside from the thumps of his boots hitting the cover. “My guess is that if it can hold an armored griffon, it can probably hold us. At least they make these things to last.”

“Box delivery, coming through,” Mendoza said, Pastor jumping off as they dropped another smaller box on top of it. “Think this’ll do it? ‘Cause, you know, I’d rather not have my legs get caught on those wall spikes on top.”

“Clearance for our exos is roughly twice our normal jump height, space permitting. If you don’t trust it, we can always head around the other way” Pastor said, jabbing a thumb towards Talbot’s corner.. “This is our better bet... assuming it works, that is.”

“So that’s...” Mendoza stepped forward, using his own height as a judge for the jump. “Yeah. Both boxes together matches my height. Let’s give this a try.”

“Going first?” Pastor asked.

Mendoza shrugged. “My idea. Might as well, right?” He climbed on top of their makeshift lift, and with a heave and the creaking of the boxes themselves, hopped over the fence and landed on the other side. “Ugh, there’s mud all over the place on this side. Watch your step.”

“Clear for go, then,” Raymond said, taking his turn next and jumping the fence, getting good clearance above the spikes. “I’m in. Holding position.”

“You’re up, Shell,” Talbot ordered. He leaned his head around the corner and down the length of the wall’s face to see that the guards still stood oblivious to their security breach. “Still unaware. Feel free to make the jump.”

“Yes, sir. Up and over...” Pastor disappeared over the fence and Talbot took up the slack and was on the box before Pastor landed on the other side. “Make room, guys, the boss still has to jump over.”

“Clear out,” Talbot warned, waiting for several seconds before making his own jump. Bounding over the stone walls and narrowly missing the spikes as they passed by his feet, he landed straight into the puddle of mud that Mendoza warned them about, kicking it up around him and catching it on his boots.

Looking up, the area immediately past the arch wasn’t anything impressive: a small security bunkhouse sat on the other side with no lights in its windows, and a small clumping of bushes sat between them and the road that led up to the fortress.

“Clear run up to the fortress now, huh?” Mendoza said, moving to the edge of the bushes to get a clear look up the incline to the fortress’s massive gates. “Well, doors are still open, at least.”

“No other obstacles to our way in,” Pastor said, activating his camouflage as he took up the lead. “I wish all our infiltrations were as easy as just jumping over a wall.”

“Then enjoy this little reprieve while we still have the chance,” Talbot said, following behind them as they headed up the hill, four blurry forms, mud washing off of their boots in the rain as the early morning’s twilight was muted by the clouds. Large barrels protruding from the walls caught his attention: even at their distance, the size of the weapons was plain to see. No doubt that any shot fired from that out into the plains would cause some devastating damage.

“Wow, those are some big guns,” Mendoza said, as they reached the top of the hill and took cover in an alcove next to the first set of outer gates.

“Let’s just hope they don’t end up firing the damn things when the attack starts...” Pastor said, activating his sensor grenade. The resulting ping brought up nothing around them, but did reveal several dozen signatures in the wall directly above them. “Walls are manned. No surprise there.”

The fortress was rather straightforward, or at least that’s how it appeared to Talbot from the outside. The plans had shown that there were three entrances into it: the main gates on the current ground floor, a second entrance on the second floor gathering area, and a third servants’ entrance in the side of the fortress, along a small alley from their right side up against the wall.

“See that break in the wall on the right side?” Talbot said, marking the location on their visors. “Entrance is in through that way, through the side there. It leads through the servants’ quarters, but we’ll have less of a chance of detection that way.”

“Sure. Looks like a clear run from here to there,” Pastor said, pulling out his binoculars to scan the walls on the side of the courtyard. “I don’t see many guards. They must be taking shelter from the rain.”

“Whoa, hey... get a load of that.” Mendoza pointed to the other corner on the north side, where an unoccupied battle wagon sat as a pair of griffon mechanics were tinkering with it. “I wonder if we can drive it.”

“On your own time, Fuse, not ours,” Talbot said. “Chances of detection, Shell?”

Pastor nodded and stored his binoculars away. “Clear run, not many eyes, fuzzy weather... yeah, I think we have a chance of making it across, so long as we stay spaced out. Ready to move.”

“Go.”

They carefully moved forward, leaving a five-second gap in between each of their advances, and began to move across the courtyard as the rain began to let up. As Raymond made it past the second and last set of outer gates, however, bells began to ring, and griffons started to gather on the walls and outside the keep.

“What the hell’s going on?” Raymond asked.

“Attack! We’re under attack!” a griffon answered from the walls. “This is not a drill! Loyalists are attacking the city! They’ve dug up into the center of the city and are pushing out now! Report to your commanders for orders!”

“Uh... yeah...” Mendoza said. “I think now would be a good time to get inside.”

“Already there,” Pastor said, being the first one to make it into the alley and moved to stack on the door. “So, what’s the—ugh!” he began, as the door suddenly burst open and knocked him back, camouflage failing, into the wall as a group of griffons charged out.

“Move it, you idiots! This is the real thing!” the leader of the group shouted, fumbling with his own helmet as his griffons marched fully armored behind him. Talbot and Raymond quickly moved aside and joined Mendoza in hugging the wall, right behind a pair of barrels as they charged past. “As soon as we get our orders, they’re shutting the gates, so make sure you keep up!”

“Yes, sir!” his subordinates said in unison.

Talbot and his group sat silent for a few moments, eyes glued on the open door to see if any new arrivals would catch them off guard. None did, so Talbot tapped Mendoza on the shoulder and pointed towards Pastor, who laid flat on the ground on his back, unmoving. His vitals read perfectly fine, though, which alleviated any concerns that he had.

Mendoza tiptoed across and behind the open door, patting Pastor on the cheek. “Yo... Shell, wake up, man. We got a job to do. You alright?”

“...shit, these griffons can slam a door with some serious force...” Pastor muttered, grabbing Mendoza’s hand and getting to his feet. “I’d hate to see what a sword hit from them could do to me.”

“Me, too, dude. Your head still on straight?” Mendoza asked, as Talbot came up behind him, Raymond immediately peeling off left and entering the building.

“Nothing too bad... just felt like I ran into a wall, that’s all.”

“Good,” Talbot said. “Now let’s go get Castshot.”

Mendoza and Pastor both nodded, breaking back into crouch and camouflage as they headed past him, and into the fortress depths. Talbot followed them inside, turning around to grab the door handle when he paused to look up into the skies. Dozens of V-formation units of griffon air cavalry were now on alert and heading for the city to fight against the loyalists.

He shut the door, cutting them off from the ringing bells of the outside. That was the loyalists’ mission: to distract the garrison, and buy them time. Now all they had to do was theirs.
> Doorknocker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Sure is dark in here,” Mendoza said, stepping over a cluster of emptied mugs stacked in a box as they passed by an unoccupied den, fireplace still burning as the seats were scattered around the room in various half-circles. The silence that permeated the inner halls reinforced their assumptions that all hands had been called to arms... and their sensors registered nothing in the quarters.

“It’s a castle. They aren’t really known for having fluorescent lights,” Pastor said, giving a passing glance into the interior of a kitchen as they continued on. “So... where are we heading?”

“For starters, up,” Talbot said. “We need to find some stairs up. Given that these are quarters, there’s probably a set of them at the end of the hall.”

They continued down the hall, guns trained at the burning torch at the end until they reached the bottom of the staircase, winding upwards in a clockwise fashion into the primary facilities of the castle hall. Sensors still active, the lack of signatures persisted; fortunate since it seemed that most defenders were called out to the walls or into the city, and less guards meant less chance of detection.

But detection was more of a secondary concern for this mission. They were inside now, following the raised alerts, and the griffons would not be expecting them. The concern that Castshot might still be willing to use the guns to fire upon the city was still there, and the possible result was still a tenuous coinflip.

The Ghosts ascended the stairs, ears sharp for the sound of any noise that may come from above or below, passing sconce after sconce on their way up until an increase in the rush of air notified them that their exit was near. The sound of conversation greeted them once they reached the top.

“...he surely cannot be serious!”

“He is!” Raymond, on point, leaned his head out the doorway to find two robed servants standing in an empty lobby, ornate armorset statues and griffon sculptures surrounding the red-carpeted area. “He’s been on edge recently. Everyone knows about it, but no one has wanted to point it out.”

“On edge? Does this have something to do with what happened to Highcloud?”

“Of course! They say he was found dead. Dead! Assassinated in his own office within the highest reaches of Stratus Airbase! How such a thing could happen is beyond me... the general had his guard on duty, and on patrol in the entire inner sanctum!” one of them said, looking around nervously from behind his ragged cloth hood. “Now they say that whoever went after Highcloud is coming for them next.”

“It’s the loyalists! Why else would they attack the city right now? Did they ever find out who killed Highcloud? Wh-what if it’s one of our own? One of the guards here?!”

“Shh! We’re just lucky that the general has called all of his griffons to guard his own war room! He’s taking no chances! He’s counting on the fact that keeping so many griffons around will decrease the chance of a double agent trying to make a move on his own. Let him worry about his own business and we’ll go about ours.”

“T-then... what about us? What should we do?”

“Easy! We go back to our quarters, hide, and wait until all of this blows over. Come on, I have some drink stored away just for occasions like this one.”

“Moving into the hall now,” Raymond notified, deftly slipping his way out of the doorway and disappearing behind one of the sculptures as the griffons began to walk towards the doorway he’d been sitting at. They were far from the door, however, and paid no attention to anything beyond their current conversation.

Mendoza followed, then Pastor, and finally Talbot as the griffons’ dawdling pace allowed them time to slink away into the shadows as the oblivious pair of griffons continued on uninterrupted. The hall was symmetric, with a pair of rising stone stairs leading up to the upper floors of the hall and the rooms beyond.

“No guards around, huh?” Mendoza said, whistling to himself. “Talk about being paranoid.”

“So they think it’s one of their own. Makes it easier for us,” Raymond said.

“Yeah, but that means that he’s surrounded by his goons,” Pastor noted. “This could make things a bit complicated.”

“Well, we can just un-complicate it with a little bit of boom, if you get my drift,” Mendoza said. “They want to hole up in a room, swords pointed at the door? Allow us to retort with a special game of our own. Besides, these breaching charges have to be used for something, right?”

“They aren’t meant to kill, Fuse,” Pastor said.

“I know that. So maybe we can mix in a few frags to spice things up?”

“That remains to be seen,” Talbot said. “Remember that we’re here to kill just him. All other possible targets are secondary unless they jeopardize our mission. Whether or not they fall into that category is something we have to find out first.”

“All turtling up in a room like that, they’re just asking for it...” Mendoza muttered.

An explosion from outside rocked the foundation of the fortress. No doubt that must have been the loyalists on the eastern gate accomplishing their task.

“Looks like they’re ahead of schedule,” Talbot said. “Raymond, take point. Up the stairs and sweep through each room. Go.”





“Clear,” Raymond said, keeping overwatch as they advanced down another hall.

Unlike Stratus Highbase, which had a clear direction of ascent leading to the officers’ quarters, Kruvem’s inner fortress was completely labyrinthine. Their route had taken them up and down various stairs and down more hallways than Talbot would have cared to remembered. It made him wonder whether or not the confusion was part of the fortress’s defense strategies.

Eventually, though, they opted to stop sweeping rooms altogether, simply sticking with opening the door and poking their head inside to see if there wasn’t anything strange inside. The reasoning behind the action was that they’d assumed that the sensors might have gone bust and couldn’t scan through the stone walls.

They hadn’t found any evidence to prove or disprove that theory, though, but they couldn’t be too sure. Lack of any guards whatsoever put them on edge.

“...another empty room. Is it just me, or do they all seem to look the same? Bedrooms or studies or dens or some other thing. How many rooms does this place need?” Mendoza said.

“Lots of officers, lots of soldiers, lots of rooms,” Pastor said. “How long have we been at this now?”

“Judging by my local clock, I’d say about half an hour now. I hope the offensive outside is going well,” Talbot said, closing a door behind him as camouflage re-materialized following him releasing his grip on the knob. “Report for this floor?”

“All empty, no one here. Not even servants or anything,” Mendoza said, shrugging. “Were those two guys at the entrance really the only ones in here? I kind of find that hard to believe with a castle as big as this one.”

A crack of thunder paired with a shrieking voice greeted them as they instinctively hugged the walls, as a servant tumbled unceremoniously down from the stairs at the end of the hall. He was drenched, and the clapping of armor indicated that his pursuers had managed to catch up to the unfortunate servant as he attempted to get to his claws.

“Are you all insane?! Leave me alone, I have nothing to do with this!” he shouted, fending off the pair of soldiers approaching him with a feeble wave of his claw.

“I’m sorry, sir, but orders are orders. General Castshot wants all of the servants to be brought to the war room,” one of them responded, wearing the crested helm of an officer. “Please don’t make this harder for either of us.”

“Absolutely not! Can’t you see that the general’s gone absolutely mad? There’s no way he’s going to let any of us live at this rate! Just let me go! Please! I have a family to think of!”

“He’s still the general.” The officer nodded to his subordinate and they forcefully grabbed the servant by the arms. “And like I said, orders are orders. I don’t feel any better about this, but remember that you can be executed for disobeying an order directly from a general himself.”

“Don’t you get it? He’s going to kill us all! If I manage to escape, I can at least spend the last moments with my family before I’m dragged off to be beheaded!” the servant spat out, flailing in their grip. “I’ve no ties to the loyalists, but this is just crazy!”

“...I agree, sir,” the subordinate said. “This is just... getting out of hand. Ever since Highcloud died, everyone’s been on guard. What if Castshot is right? What if there really is a loyalist... or more, among us?”

“That’s defeatist talk,” the officer replied, releasing his grip on the servant and nodding to the subordinate to do the same. “Fine. Get out of here... or rather, hide. You won’t make it far since the skies are guarded and gates are closed. Just hide somewhere safe until this all blows over.”

“Thank you... thank you, sir,” the servant said, graciously bowing before him. “You don’t know how much this means to me...”

“You’re very welcome.” The officer sighed, taking off his helmet and running a claw through his feathered head. “I just wish we could do more for the others upstairs. Well, what are you still doing here, servant? Get out of here!”

“Sheesh, this just keeps getting better and better...” Mendoza muttered under his breath. Pastor merely shook his head at his comment, none of them making a single move and observing the pair of guards instead.

“Is it really that bad, sir?” the subordinate asked.

“What do you mean by that?” the officer gruffly replied, replacing his helmet and tossing an annoyed look at him.

“You were... in the war room, weren’t you? Did the general, you know... lose his stones?”

“You know, rookie, you would probably do better if you didn’t ask all of these questions. The more inquisitive types usually end up at the Institute of Magic, but sometimes we get a bright one like you slipping through the cracks.” He sighed. “Yeah, I believe he’s finally lost it. Never seen a general get spooked so badly.”

“Do you think it might have something to do with the... coup? That he’s finally going to get his just desserts?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. Everyone’s getting spooked now because he’s spooked. Doesn’t reflect well on us. You study military hierarchy at the academy?”

“Yeah, I did, but—”

“Then you know why our tradition dictates that we normally do not question our superiors. We expect them to be of sound mind, to be able to properly make decisions for their soldiers that will result in the best outcome in war. Pointing talons at anyone who so much as even looks at you in the wrong way is not indicative of a sound mind.”

“Then why don’t we simply just depose him and install a new general?” the subordinate asked.

The officer shook his head. “Because of Strongbeak. That’s the thing about coups, you see: they’re never as easy as you’d think it would be. Now come on, let’s get back before they start looking for us... and try to ignore the mess upstairs. I wouldn’t want to be any of the soldiers in charge of cleaning up that.”

Both returned up the stairs, their armor clapping as their sabatons sounded off up the steps. Talbot took a mental note of the conversation: Castshot was involving civilians, the extent in which he did so was still unknown. Given how that conversation ended, though, Talbot assumed that it probably wasn’t anything good.

“A mess upstairs?” Mendoza said. “Something tells me that it isn’t from any kind of party...”

“Executions?” Raymond wondered.

“A possibility. One that I hope that’s completely wrong,” Talbot said. “I’ll take point, form up and keep an eye out for anyone else.” He exited his perch hiding behind a statue adorned with some rustic griffonic leather armor, stepping down the red-carpeted hall towards the staircase winding up at the end of the hall.

He paused for a moment, raising an ear to hear if there were any further noises; there were none. Looking over his shoulder, he only received curious looks of confusion from the rest of Anvil Squad, and he turned back, face furrowed into contemplation. A cold feeling sat at the bottom of his stomach, a gut feeling that they weren’t going to like what was up there.

But he forged on; the task needed to be accomplished. The sight of what appeared to be bloodstains caking the walls at random intervals up the stairs, increasing in number as they caught the evidence through the flickering torch lights, caused the apprehension in him to grow, and he gripped his MR8’s handle tighter.





So it figured that Castshot’s war room would be situated within a gigantic tower. The bloodstains that the Ghosts encountered early on during their beginning ascent soon gave way to more floors, rife with past clues of scuffles: broken furniture, smashed glass, torn bits of clothing, and obviously, more blood.

“Must have been one hell of a party...” Mendoza whispered, shaking his head at a rag of cloth hanging off of a splintered end of what used to be a table. “What the hell do you think happened here?”

“Executions,” Raymond mentioned again. “But I doubt that. No bodies, and they’d have nowhere to take them, or at least nowhere they could go without us noticing them on the way up. They might have just thrown them out the windows, but it looks like the guards outside don’t know a thing about what’s going on in here.”

“Maybe they herded them up and took them to the war room. You heard the conversation earlier,” Pastor said, kneeling down to inspect a rugged tan feather on the ground. “I think Castshot is trying to surround himself with meat shields. Cannon fodder, in case any of his supposed traitors may get any funny ideas.”

“But there aren’t any traitors in his ranks...?” Mendoza said.

“That’s the problem. Strongbeak and his generals seem to think that their own were the ones who killed Highcloud,” Talbot said. Noticing a small pool of specks blood on the tiled floor below the painting he was inspecting, he crouched down and examined it up close. “Well, the blood isn’t dried. We might just have a chance, after all.”

“If he’s holed up in that war room, and that place only has one way in, this could get nasty real easily,” Mendoza said. “Was there ever anything about breaching into a room with a single tango and a wall full of civvies in the books?”

“No, because there was never anyone crazy or able enough to do something like that,” Raymond said. “Griffonic deference to authority means that we have a high-value target that is easily capable of achieving that. And to compound the problem, stuff like this is something that we usually only see in Hollywood action flicks, not real life.”

“Real life... as if skulking around a fortress full of griffons in a world where talking ponies exist isn’t real enough,” Mendoza said facetiously.

“It’s as real as it’ll get,” Talbot said. “Simply just walking inside and offing the target is no longer on our list of options. And judging by that aforementioned conversation, he’s holed up all his soldiers in that room, too.”

“Breach, flash, and clear, then?” Pastor said.

“For the moment, yes,” Talbot said, standing up and walking around to inspect broken shards of weaponry hanging around the room he was in. “At least it seems that some of the taken didn’t go without a fight.”

“Don’t you mean, breach, flash, tag that son of a bitch, then bug out? That’s all we came here to do, right?” Mendoza tapped the devices on his belt, strapped in a line. “Well, assuming that we can get away with it, that is... not sure what our current policy is with giving them a used grenade.”

“I’d rather avoid it, but this might force our hand.” The war room was undoubtedly at the top of the tower, and with a way to ascend above the room itself, they might be able to gain a vantage point that allowed them to eliminate Castshot with minimal casualties. This, of course, being a purely hypothetical situation since it was very possible that the war room was the highest point in the tower one could reach.

“Avoiding direct confrontation against griffons swinging swords would be nice,” Raymond said, picking up and reading a scrap of paper he’d found on the floor. “General is taking us to war room, might kill us all. Please help.” He looked at the open window he’d found it sitting under, before tossing the paper out the window.

“Well, they said ‘please’. Guess we have no choice but to help them, huh?” Mendoza said, laughing softly, until a crash interrupted his good mood. Enemy signatures began to blink into existence on their visors.

“Someone’s coming down from upstairs,” Talbot whispered, gesturing for them to hide and taking cover inside the room behind him, a study filled with books; the other Ghosts each scattered into one of the six rooms on the floor. He leaned his transparent head out to see that a six-griffon squad of Strongbeak’s elites were now gathered at the end, discussing their battle plan.

“Okay, all of you, here’s the plan: we fan out, take cover in these rooms, and ambush any possible attackers that come up the steps,” the leader said, wearing a resplendent golden helm with a tall red plume on top.

“Permission to speak, captain,” one of them requested.

“Go ahead.”

“Who are we going to ambush?” the soldier asked. “The battle in the city is clearly in our favor. We have nothing to fear from these petty loyalists, captain.”

The captain groaned in disapproval. “That’s the kind of thinking that got Highcloud killed. They might already be among us, or they might be marching up the hill to the fortress as we speak. Either way, we must be ready. Get in position and stand ready.”

The five griffons before him saluted and scattered, each heading off to their own respective rooms in their hall. Mendoza displayed heart rate increased as he held his breath, watching as three of them passed by his hiding spot right next to an upright statue of a griffon posturing with a sword, and feeling a small gust of wind pass him by as the griffons sauntered by dangerously close, flapping their wings idleness.

“So... what do we do?” Raymond asked, hiding on top of a pile of fallen bookshelves as he watched his closest target examining the paintings on the wall. “Offing them seems like a good option: the moment we kill Castshot, they’ll be in the way of our escape.”

“And what, risk tipping him off early?” Mendoza hissed into his comm. “He might get antsy and start killing civilians if he knows for sure that someone’s here, and they’re after him.”

“Touch choice. Your call, boss,” Pastor notified Talbot.

Talbot could see the griffon in his room digging through the scattered messy piles of broken shards, in the room that now assumed used to be an armory of some sorts. A number of closed chests and still-occupied weapon racks seemed to indicate as such, so the griffon continued to drift around the room, inspecting the equipment.

That gave him time to think: was it really worth it raising an early alarm to clear out their escape route? No doubt that as soon as his body was found—and it would be found quickly—that the elites would immediately be recalled to the war room to engage intruders. But they hadn’t been ordered to stick together, merely wait for any unfortunate party to pass by to ambush them.

Which so delivered them into the perfect situation to be ambushed.

“Fuse has a point. These guys will be up our asses the moment we score the kill, and as we’ve discussed before, no point in testing our mettle against griffon steel.” The griffon turned around and stared straight in his direction, presenting his open helm as a perfect target for him. “Isolate and eliminate the targets.”

“Affirmative,” Raymond said. His miniature profile shown through the walls raised his arms, and the target before him went dark as he made his kill, with only a small thump of their fitted armor landing on the ground marking their deaths masked by the weather outside. “Kill confirmed... but these guys hit the ground pretty hard.”

“At least their armor doesn’t go click-clack like the regular guys usually wear. I suppose that’s a good thing,” Mendoza said. The demolitions expert’s closest enemy signature went dark. “And another one bites the dust.”

Shortly after, Pastor made his kill. “Another down,” he responded.

Raymond took the initiative and immediately relocated himself to the room further down the hall, passing by the captain as he made his way down the hall and eliminating the fourth griffon without notice. That left two: the captain, and the one in front of Talbot, who was now twirling a blade around in his claws.

“Moving to eliminate the captain,” Pastor notified, exiting the room he was in just as a huge influx of wind into the hall extinguished several torches, causing the captain to pause.

“Huh. Looks like I have to relight these...” the griffon muttered. “Does anyone still have a lit torch around here?” he called out.

“Uh... there’s one in here!” Talbot’s target shouted back. Pastor crouched by his doorway, as a single line for his weapon sights appeared on Talbot’s visor, tracking the captain’s head.

“Ready to make the shot. On your mark.”

Talbot looked back down his own sights, watching as the griffon grabbed the torch off the far wall and began walking to his captain with it. “Fire.”

Two silent hisses sounded as the griffons met at the doorway. The bullets penetrated their helmets’ plating, going straight into their skulls and killing them instantly. Their bodies fell to the ground and landed in a heap, the captain underneath the soldier.

“Well, that went pretty smoothly,” Mendoza said, walking out of his room and strolling straight down the corridor. “Just a single step of stairs up. I’ll bet this is the end of the line.”

“Fuse, prep charges. Let’s go see what our host has in store,” Talbot said.





“Big double doors, nothing else but walls on either side, and ceiling above us,” Mendoza said lowly. “Shit.”

“He’s locked this place down pretty well,” Pastor whispered, leaning his head closer to the door. “Can’t hear anything. But all those signatures on my visor isn’t making this look optimistic.”

Talbot frowned beneath his balaclava. Beyond that door numbered more than fifty signatures, numbers between civilian and soldier completely unknown. The closest other adornment in this forsaken staircase was a single set of crystal chandeliers hanging right above them, aside from the rest of the area, painted completely in red.

“No... wait.” Raymond pointed at a small alcove above the massive doorframe. “There’s something there. Check it out.”

Talbot nodded to Pastor. “Send the UAV up to take a look.”

Pastor nodded back, reaching around and grabbing the small compact block and tossed it into the air. The device unfurled its rotors, giving a quiet hum as it activated and began ascending on Pastor’s directions. Live feed was streamed to their visors as the UAV reached the top of the ceiling, revealing a small pair of air ducts for ventilation into the room.

Talbot didn’t have to say anything as Pastor moved the UAV forward, barely fitting in through one of the ducts as it found its way into the war room. The infrared view made it hard to make out all the figures clumped in the room, but other signs were there: soldiers were on the perimeters, while the civilians and others were crowded together in the center, providing most of the noise as they whimpered and cried under the soldiers’ watchful gaze.

The problem was that Castshot was impossible to point out in the crowd.

“Agh, can’t get anything on this guy...” Pastor said. “One way in, anyhow. Fuse, get that breaching charge set up.”

“With pleasure,” Mendoza said, pasting the small yellow block above the door handles as he whipped out the detonator. “Good to go.”

“What’s the size of the room?” Talbot inquired.

“Small. Really small, actually,” Pastor noted, tapping a few buttons on the UAV control device on his armguard. “Guards are practically against the walls and toe-to-toe with the crowd. Looks like they moved the table to the end of the room so they could amass them all in the center.”

“Can the UAV’s electrical shock disorient them long enough for us to make our shot?” The UAV’s electrical pulse had a decent range and adequate power output, enough to leave a regular human completely fazed for several seconds. Talbot’s hope was that it would work on griffons, too.

“It’ll work, but I’m not sure if that’s worth the risk.” He shook his head. “Screw this damn UAV and its thermal-only grainy-as-fuck camera. I can’t find Castshot through any of this mess.”

Talbot inwardly cursed; with so many of them within, individual profiles were impossible to see with the UAV’s cameras. Just about the only time he wished it was equipped with a regular camera instead of thermal. Things weren’t entirely too bad, however, as it seemed that Castshot had simply taken to holing himself up in the room instead of giving the fortress guns clear permission to fire upon the city.

“Maybe... there’s this?” Pastor put the UAV into standby and pulled out a small wire from his armguard, appeared to be outfitted with a stub at the end.

“What is it?” Talbot asked.

“Another tool that I picked up during my time with the NSA. It’s a camera, and I just wire this thing underneath the door and we can see what’s on the other side.” He walked over to the door and slipped the camera through.

“...probably doesn’t help that you can’t see much with that view,” Raymond said.

“Better than nothing,” Pastor said, shrugging as he nodded slowly. “But... I can also pick up sound better, too. Listen to this.” He tapped a button on the PDA and began transferring audio from within the room.

“...wh-why can’t we just... why can’t we leave?”

“Because, you idiot, the general wants us all here. We’re to... to act as his shields in case of emergency.”

“But... I don’t want to die!”

“Quiet down there! No talking!”

“No! This is enough! Why is the general resorting to such cowardly tactics to fight an enemy? The loyalists are on our doorstep and yet he chooses to hide in here!”

Pastor left the wire there as a microphone and switched back to the UAV, bringing it further down and hanging it right above the room’s chandelier. If he could get close enough to the floor level, then perhaps he could make them out based upon their heads and who was speaking instead.

The UAV relocated itself to a position in the corner of the room just to the right of the door, just out of reach of the chandelier and above a guard’s post.

“What the general does is none of your concern, servant,” one of the guards growled.

“How fitting that he resorts to letting his subordinates speak for him!” Pastor caught the offending servant’s head as he turned his gaze towards the northwest, the far left corner of the war room. “I would think that he would at least have the gall to speak for himself...”

“Then speak I shall.” Pastor smirked as a single griffon stood up, holding his head high as he took a deep breath. “I believe one of you in here is a traitor. And I will not have my life taken in such an unseemly fashion! No blade through my back will be had here, and I will not go as quietly as Highcloud did!”

“Got him,” Pastor said, isolating Castshot’s single target signature with a yellow glow. “There’s our griffon.”

“Stack up and prepare for breach,” Talbot ordered. Two gathered on each side of the wall: Mendoza up front on left with Pastor behind him, with Talbot on the lead on the right side with Raymond to follow. “Move UAV into position and prepare to administer electrical pulse.”

“Moving UAV into position.” Pastor moved the UAV to the center of the room again, hanging high above Castshot’s head until the signal was given to drop down and then discharge its electrifying surprise to the entire room. “Bot’s in position. Ready.”

“Flash going in or not?” Mendoza asked, pointing at the door as he held up the detonator with his right hand.

“No chances. Blind and shock ought to keep them confused for a while.” Mendoza nodded as Talbot holstered his MR8 and pulled out the cylindrical flashbang grenade, slipping a finger through the pin. “I’ll make the shot with my revolver. High caliber is the best way to ensure the kill. Scope stands overwatch. Ready on three.”

“Roger...” Mendoza said, holding up his fingers to count down the breach.

Three.

“...and I don’t have to bother explaining myself to you, you urchin! My station is far more important to the likes of you and it is imperative that I remain alive to oversee this operation! Strongbeak would have it no other way!” Castshot shouted, his gravelly voice causing the servants to recoil in terror.

Mendoza dropped a finger after a moment, delaying the pause between the counts to eavesdrop on the conversation. The action was allowed, as Talbot was . Two.

The lone servant stood defiant against his captor. “So this is how it all is, isn’t it? A promise of glory and a return to the golden ages, built upon a tower of lies and subterfuge. I had thought the proud griffon military to be above such things. Where adoration and acceptance once stood, fear and revulsion stands in their place.”

Another finger fell, and Talbot’s grip on the flashbang tightened. One.

“You insolent fool,” Castshot said coldly. “When our forces are victorious here and defeat the loyalists, you will be the first paraded out to the chopping block. And I’ll make an example of you to the rest of—”

A lone finger lowered, leaving only a gloved fist. Zero.

Mendoza squeezed the handle of his detonator.

Pastor tapped the UAV’s electrical pulse button on his PDA.

Talbot pulled the pin on the flashbang, rearing up his arm to throw.

And all hell broke loose.





The next few events could be best described as a massive clusterfuck, the whole act proceeding almost as if it were an orchestrated dance of death. Pastor struck first as the UAV dispersed a brilliant radius of coursing energy throughout the room, paralyzing their bodies over the span of the next several seconds as they went to work.

Mendoza’s charge blasted through the door despite its bulky wooden material and sent a shower of splintered wood fragments and sheared metal flying into the war room. Those griffons close enough to the blast were immediately knocked down to the ground, and many of them the servants that had been clustered near the front of the room alongside the nearby guards, exposing the latter part of the group to their line of sight... including Castshot.

Talbot struck third, hurling the flashbang clear through the gap they’d made for themselves, all four of them shielding themselves from the imminent detonation as the griffons still reeled from the force of the breaching charge. The blindingly deafening explosion that followed set them up for their next action.

“Cover me!” Talbot said. No brass casings to leave behind. That was the rule, and it was still one they could adhere to; unfortunate happenstance with the grenade, but it had to be done. He pulled the strap off of his sidearm holster and pulled out his revolver, sidestepping left and standing up as he centered his line of sight.

He brought up the revolver to fire, staring down the iron sight for a shot in contrast to the targeting system that the MR8 came equipped with to synergize with their visors. The dust began to clear as the griffons started shouting to each other, in both worry and guarded concern. The sound of metal rang as weapons were drawn.

Castshot’s face was buried in his claws, his head shaking violently as he fought off the disorientation from the flashbang. His face stared up in pain as he squinted through the dust... to find Talbot staring him down the barrel of his gun, a two-legged being appearing before him instead of the expected griffon or a pony.

Talbot watched him through the sights, the tick at the end lined up with the griffon’s face, for what felt like an eternity. His gaze was locked behind an opaque visor as Castshot’s expression was one of pure confusion that slowly began to contort into shock as he realized who they were. They were the ones who had come to kill him and needed to be stopped right now, but Talbot didn’t give him much time to dwell on that any further.

A single roaring boom from Talbot’s revolver resounded as his bullet pierced the side of Castshot’s head and exploded out the other side in a stream of blood and brain matter. The general keeled over with his eyes glazing over, landing in front of the guards behind him as panic began to set in full scale.

“What.... the general... the general’s dead! Find the assassins, now!”

That was their cue to run, and led them to their current predicament.

“Thank God for these fucking exos!” Mendoza huffed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The griffons were hot behind them, almost immediately taking pursuit as soon as the order was given.

“Halt!” a griffon called after them.

“As if...” Raymond said. “Hide or run?”

“Run!” Talbot ordered, until he heard the sound of flapping. He groaned; of course they had wings. How could they have forgotten that? Another grenade might need to be used to cement their escape, and his left hand tightened the grip on his belt as they approached the end of the hall.

They skidded to a halt as several of the griffons cut them off as the chasing group surrounded the Ghosts at blade point.

“...what the hell are these things? Minotaurs?”

“Too small. And no horns or the muscular features. What the hell are they wearing?”

“Doesn’t matter. They killed the general. Take ‘em in, I’m sure Strongbeak would want to talk to these guys...”

“Over your cold dead bodies!” they heard a voice scream from the room on their left, the one with the open window that Raymond had tossed the letter out of. A blur of feather and gold burst through, wounding one of the elites with a swing of his blade. “Your reckoning has come, fools!”

“An Imperial Guard?!” the wounded griffon said, stepping back as more griffons flew in through the window to join their comrade. He turned to gawk at the other elites, who in turn were also gawking at the humans. “What are you waiting for?! Kill—ergh!” He was cut off as Raymond planted a bullet in his throat.

“Down, Ghosts!” the Guard called. Talbot and the others ducked and rolled in the griffon’s direction as the Guard swung his blade to parry a stab coming from behind them. “I take it you’ve accomplished your task?” he grunted, trading steel as the other Guards joined the fight.

“Yeah. Why?” Talbot said, shooting an elite in the foot and exposing him to a slash across the side.

“Hard to miss the sound of your weapons.”

“Did Bloodfury send you? Who are you?” Talbot asked, dropping behind the Guard and forming into a half-circle with the rest of the Ghosts as the Imperial Guards pushed forward.

“Don’t you recognize me? It’s Leret!” he said, parrying again and diving left, circling around and countering with a stab into the elite’s side, through a weak point in his armor. He punched the elite in the back of the head, knocking his body to the ground, and turned his attention to the steadily dwindling numbers of enemies in the hall.

“What?” Talbot asked, judging their situation. With their numbers totaling seven, the elites still outnumbered them two-to-one. “Is it just you three?”

“Yes. Bloodfury and his unit are currently engaged in the skies, and the regular soldiers are storming the castle grounds on foot.” Leret’s next swing missed when the elite he was charging flinched backwards as Talbot shot him in the face. “Remind me not to show my face when I’m on your bad side!”

“I don’t get it...” Mendoza said loudly as his bullet pinged off of an elite’s armor on the left side of the hall, forcing them into a defensive position. “Why don’t they just surrender?”

“Their honor won’t allow it. And they’d end up on the chopping block anyway,” Leret said gruffly. “An honorable death is greater than living up to the shame of being a traitor!”

“Strongbeak is the true ruler of the Empire! And you loyalist fools are too blind to see that!” Leret turned to face an elite brandishing a greatsword like his own.

“He sits on a throne of lies and false promises!” Leret returned, meeting the elite in battle as their numbers became equalized in the heat of combat. Their blades crossed and they matched off, delving into claw-to-claw combat techniques as they spun around until Leret gained the upper hand by performing a side spin and hopped onto the elite’s back, flattening him into the ground. “He jeopardizes our long-fought peace to satisfy his want for power. And no quarter will be spared to him... nor you.” He stabbed into the elite’s neck, twisting once to finish the job.

As Leret hopped off of the corpse, the battle came to an end. His allies had fared better in combat, assisted by the Ghosts and unfettered by extended monologues, and had finished the battle right as he ended his.

“Guard superiority, huh?” Mendoza said, picking up his brass casings from the floor.

“That battle could have gone either way without your help,” Leret said, bending down to assist him. “Our other task was to ensure that Castshot was dead. I assume he is upstairs?”

Talbot nodded. “Along with a whole group of civilians. He was using them as shields.”

“Cowardly,” Leret said amusedly. “It does not surprise me. Generals they may be, they’re all the same in the end, and they’ll all answer. They now know that, and they fear for their lives.”

“So with that, what do we do? Exit the castle downstairs?”

“Unlikely. The soldiers will be storming the defenses and scouring the entire castle from top to bottom,” Leret said. “Unlike the Guard, they do not know of your existence. They will most likely view you as an enemy and attempt to kill you.”

“Charming,” Mendoza said. “So we’re stuck here?”

“Indeed. Feel free to take up residence in one of the rooms. Your task here is done. Marus, Aergrus, form up on me. We head upstairs to the war room.” Leret turned, sheathing his sword as the two followed him into the distance, leaving the humans alone in the hall.

“Well... that was... nice.” Mendoza stuffed his fistful of casings into an empty pouch on his back belt. “So we just hang here for the next half-day or whatever until they finish clearing this place?” He scoffed. “That’ll be fun.”

“Let’s just focus on one thing at a time, okay?” Pastor said, leisurely picking up his own spent casings as Talbot moved to help Raymond with his collection. “Can’t help it, after all. Just let them do their thing, and we can just relax.”

“Yeah, well...” Mendoza shrugged, walking into the room with the open window and kicking away dust and rubble to clear himself out a sitting spot. “If any of you guys can read griffon, you can just help yourselves to some books... otherwise, I got a pack of cards we can use.”

“Is there anything you don’t bring?” Raymond asked.

“A handy teleportation device that could help us get home, for one. Aside from that... well, helps to be prepared for every situation. Including boredom,” he said, laughing as he sat down. “And, hey, if we’re really in a rush to get out, we have an open window right there. You know, we could totally do with some wingsuits or something. That would be awesome.”

“I’m just more interested in our next target.”

“What, Red Talon?” Mendoza said, drawing out a tic-tac-toe board in the dirt on the ground. “He’s holed up in his own little fortress, isn’t he? That ought to be fun to get into. Hey, any of you guys want to play some tic-tac-toe?”

“I’m game,” Pastor said, sitting down across from him. “So, rock-paper-scissors for who gets X...?”

Raymond and Talbot walked over to the window, basking in the view over the entire city and the sky filled with griffons fighting. “Got something on your mind, sir?” Raymond asked his superior.

“Red Talon, among other things,” Talbot said. “That, and wondering how things are going on the home front. Hope our little escapades here have given them some breathing room.”

“I’m sure they’re doing fine, sir.” Raymond paused, eyes following a plume of smoke rising from the market square. “The sooner we can finish this damn thing, the sooner we can get home. Or try to, anyway. Aside from that, I think I’m going to catch some shut-eye. Wake me up if we need to shoot something.” He patted Talbot on the shoulder and retreated to the corner of the room next to Mendoza and Pastor, disappearing in camouflage as he went to sleep.

Talbot looked out into the horizon, as the clouds slowly began to part. Growing sunlight began to paint the city in a glow of yellow, reflections from the rainwater giving it a crystal shine. The battlements, littered with bodies both friend and foe, experienced the first calm since the attack began as the loyalists shifted their focus from combat to clean up. Kruvem was theirs.

Yet despite the view, Talbot’s mind was elsewhere. He was no scientist, so he was not inclined to wondering how they got there, nor was he concerned about the whys behind it. A portal was meant to be a two-way street, from point A to point B. They had ended up here without a return portal, and didn’t have a schematic to make another one.

Harvey’s mind may be talented, but even he couldn’t replicate one from scratch, nor did he have the means to properly identify important materials used in its construction—assuming that he even knew what components were required, if Maynard had actually bothered to let him observe. The chances were so astronomically against them that it would require a miracle to successfully build one.

Would they be able to return home, to that blasted rock of theirs floating through space as their countrymen continued to point guns at everyone else? Or would they be stuck here, in a land where everything was normal, except for them?

He shook his head, leaning against the wall and staring out into the sky.

Only something as ludicrous as magic could help them make it back.

But knowing the princesses and the power they wielded... magic just might work.
> Turn the Tables
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“They’re holding back their forces? Why?” Harvey asked. A large cluster of griffon troop formations sat firmly entrenched around Aerocem on the war map, with only smaller elements acting as perimeter guard on the outskirts of the region. There were no units positioned to strike at the pass that the Equestrians held.

“No doubt that they’re finally getting a bit unnerved by having their generals knocked off without so much as a clue,” Shining Armor said. “But aside from what we’ve learned from what we received from Aerocem, intelligence on this project that the griffons are working on is meager at best.”

“Yes, that’s been repeated many times already... what I’m curious about is why you’ve called me here to discuss this in the middle of the night.”

“Had to be done,” Shining replied. “My sister is here, and she’s gotten wind that there’s a ‘very interesting thing’ to be found here in the castle. Knowing the Princess, I wouldn’t be surprised she was the one who let it slip.”

“Who, Celestia?” Harvey asked. “Why would she do that?”

“Most likely as some sort of game. My sister’s really big on learning as many things as she possibly can, and with you still in the process of compiling your book, she’d probably end up wringing you for every drop of knowledge you’re worth.” Shining narrowed his eyes at the intelligence report before him and shifted around some more pieces on the map using magic. “Still no change. I guess the riots are getting to them now.”

“That doesn’t explain why the Princess is doing this, though...” Harvey shook his head, yawning and taking the time to rub his tired eyes. “Just how stubborn can your sister be, anyway? I mean, she’s going on a wild search in the middle of the night, when a sensible man—or pony—would be sleeping.”

“Well, she’s not exactly that sensible of a pony when she puts her mind to something,” he said, taking a sip from his steaming cup of tea. “Though I think it would be worth finding out what sort of interesting tidbit that the Princess told my sister that instigated her whole hunt for you.”

“Does she even know that it’s me, specifically? As in, a person that has treasure troves of knowledge of a world she’s never even heard about?” Harvey inquired, recalling the sudden series of knocks on his door in the depths of the night. The guard at the door had been more than tense regarding the prodigal student’s arrival, and had told him to relocate immediately.

“You, as a human? Probably not. She’s probably thinking that Celestia’s hidden a new book around the castle somewhere for her to find. They used to do it a lot back when Twilight stayed here at the castle, or so I’ve been told. And Twilight hasn’t been asking around for clues about any new guests at the castle, so I guess that means that you’re safe, for the most part.”

“Ugh, fantastic. Will I be spending my days down here until she leaves?”

“To play it safe? That’s your best bet. I can have your things brought down here if you need to,” Shining said. Hoofsteps echoed quickly down the stairwell and he looked up to find Princess Luna entering the Sanctum of Night. “Oh, greetings, Princess Luna. What brings you here at this time of night?”

“Hello, Captain Armor,” Luna said. “I have come here to discuss with you the details of this... Eclipse project. I believe it requires more resources to be devoted to it aside from having you alone sift through the data and report them to me.” Upon seeing the disgruntled Harvey sitting across the table from Shining, she gave a respectful nod to him. “And greetings, Doctor Harvey... I had intended for a guard to fetch you so that we could speak, but it seems that it has already been done.”

“Care to hazard a guess as to why?” Harvey said with a tired chuckle.

“Oh, yes. Twilight Sparkle has been combing the castle grounds since this afternoon looking for a ‘new repository of knowledge’, or my sister has said.” Luna shook her head, recalling the look of glee on Twilight’s face when the words were uttered. “I have had a detection barrier placed upon your room. It would be disastrous if Twilight should enter to see your uncompleted work sitting on the center table just waiting for her to read. With the barrier, she will most likely ignore it and search elsewhere for her prize... like, say, the Royal Archives.”

“That’s good, if it means I can return to my bed soon,” he half-heartedly responded. “So, aside from this whole Eclipse thing going on with the griffons... what’s got you so on edge, Your Highness?”

“My sister, for one,” Luna tersely replied. “She thinks that there is no cause for alarm, and has told me that it is simply Strongbeak trying to extend his influence over the griffon Institute of Magic in some feeble attempt to add yet another tool to his schemes. I believe otherwise, and that he will attempt to effect a secondary route into our lands somehow, in an attempt to strike at us in some extension of the project’s goals after the minor concern of alicorn enchantments was brought to our attention...”

Luna trotted over and sat down on one of the empty floor cushions at the war map table, pausing long enough for a shifting in of more of her Night Guard from their return. Another pile of reports were dumped on the table at the end of the room, much to Shining’s voiced exasperation. The captain merely deferred the task of reading and compiling the information on the reports to the skeleton crew of assistants still present in the room.

“It’s possible that this whole project could be one giant hoax, Your Highness,” Shining said. “But I do have to agree with you on how this whole thing might be some trump card that they’re hiding... and that they need you both to make it work.”

“It’s nice to see someone agree with me, for once,” Luna said. “You are the only one in the entirety of the officers present in Celestia’s war council that has even thought about siding with me. They all believe that since the griffons have fallen back and the loyalists are steadily gaining influence in the Empire’s holdings that we can simply stand back and let the problem resolve itself.” She moped and dropped her head onto the table, abandoning all semblance of royal manner as she groaned aloud. “And my past reputation still stains the weight with which my opinion is taken...”

“Well, what we have is spotty at best,” Harvey said. “It could just be possible that we simply don’t have any solid cause to act on it. I can see why your sister doesn’t want to dedicate extra resources to something that might not even be anything serious to deal with.”

“I know,” Luna deadpanned. “And your response is the kind of answer that I always receive. I am... disheartened by our subjects’ lack of vigilance during these times of war. The enemy cannot always be expected to do what we might think that they will do, and although I have never met or spoken with Strongbeak, the way his military campaign is being run makes me feel... uneasy. He clearly has a goal in mind, and no amount of civil unrest or lost battles will change that.”

“Speaking from experience, Princess?” Shining asked.

Luna huffed, blowing a tuft of her mane away from her face. “You are correct. During my reign as Nightmare Moon in the olden days, my drive for ambition never wavered. I desired a complete unification of Equestria underneath my rule, and I made sure that no obstacle could stand in my way of that goal. It would not be too far to assume that Strongbeak thinks the same way, and that he already has a plan in motion to achieve what his military could not.”

“Are they going to try to kill you somehow?” Harvey said, right as a Night Guard appeared next to him to place a cup of tea before him, a much-needed rejuvenator. “Thank you. They have all of this project supposedly slated to take you down, but... how are they going to do that? You’re here in Canterlot, protected within the castle.”

“I don’t know,” Luna said. “And that is what unsettles me. I have heard mention that Strongbeak is using airships, a product of their engineering. I do not know just how capable this new craft is, or whether or not it can traverse the high winds of the mountains between our territories. Even more so, if they are capable of carrying large amounts of troops, they can easily take down any pegasi air patrol anywhere between the passes. I have asked my sister to triple the guard on the routes, but alas... she did not listen, and my Night Guard are already fully allocated to the intelligence gathering tasks so crucial to our war effort.”

“I can see if there’s anything that can be done about it, Princess,” Shining offered. “Maybe with a second opinion, she’ll be more willing to acquiesce to your suggestion. It can’t hurt if our troops are simply spending their current time just holding the line, and I’m sure the settlements close to the mountain ranges will appreciate the extra oversight.”

“Thank you, Captain Shining,” she said, picking herself back up and beckoning for another cup of tea to be brought for her. “See to it that you do... it would be terrible for us should my suspicions prove correct. Has there been anything new pertaining to the Ghosts?”

“There has, Your Highness.” Shining produced a small pile of reports for her to read. “They’ve eliminated Castshot within the city of Kruvem, and are moving to take down Red Talon next... though from what I’ve read about where he’s quartered at, it’ll be one tough nut to crack.”

“Ah, yes, the General of the Infantry,” she said. “I have heard that he is a beast, even among griffons, unparalleled in his brutality and emphasis on combat... most of our worst casualties from our battles were from his group. Even if most of his forces are on the field, I assume that he still has a garrison of his best as his side. He is not paranoid, but he is no fool. He will expect trouble, and when he finds it, he will bring down all his force upon it.”

“Agreed,” Shining said. “General Scarclaw even stated in a personal report to us that he’s not to be taken lightly, and he’s already let the Ghosts know of that. Fortress Helmguard is where he’s headquartered at, and the entire thing is impenetrable... not surprising, considering that Red Talon himself was behind its design and construction.”

“So what do they intend to do?” Luna asked. Her tea soon arrived and she soon found herself relishing in a late night drink. “I doubt that if the entire fortress is locked down from air to ground that they’ll have any chance of sneaking in... unless there is something more to humans that I have not been told about yet...”

“No such thing, Your Highness,” Harvey said, eyeing the new crossbow slung across the back of the Night Guards on duty in the room, prototypes that still needed to go through further testing. “What you see is what you get... if we could teleport, I can assure you that they would abuse that ability to hell and back. Would make things a lot more easier if they could.”

“Uh, actually...” Shining interrupted. “They intend on launching an all-out assault on the fortress much like they did with Kruvem.”

“Are they mad?” Luna immediately responded. “It is madness to assault a heavily-defended fortress head on!”

“At this point, I don’t think they have much of a choice,” Shining said. “Though they could just move onto another target, but they won’t have the power of the loyalists to help them with travel and lodgings. Their influence is still restricted to the eastern and southern regions of the Empire, so they’ll probably have to stick it out with them.”

“How strong are their numbers? You are sure that they intend to do this?” Luna inquired, recalling her own equally suicidal tactics used during the battles that ensued between her armies and Celestia’s. How foalish she had been, so blinded by vengeance that she threw away the lives of her most devoted to obtain what she now knew was a cursed throne, taken by spilling the blood of innocents... “I have done this before, and you must send them a letter on my behalf to urge them against it!”

“It doesn’t look like they intend to do anything else,” Shining said, eyes still on the report in front of him. “They assault the fortress at... at the next dawn!”

“Is there still time to get a message to them?”

Shining shook his head. “Possibly, but we’ll need to pull every route in record time to do it, and even then, it’s going to take hours, at the minimum. There’s a very good possibility that they’ll have launched their attack long before we can get anything to them.”

“Damn,” she cursed. “Then we will have to hope for the best. Scarclaw must have something up his sleeve if he intends to throw them all against the walls like raging ocean waves on the coast. Why not simply move to other townships and work to gain support for themselves instead?”

“To a griffon, it’s simply too valuable a target, Your Highness. I sense that Scarclaw intends to remove Red Talon as a means to break their morale... he’s big, strong, intimidating, and inspires his griffons in the midst of battle. The values he exhibits are a spitting image of what Strongbeak is trying to instill into his troops, and Red Talon is the linchpin keeping that image together. Eliminating him would be a huge blow to their war effort. Might even bring some more to their side, actually.”

“I see you’ve done your homework,” Harvey joked.

“Reading up on the current military leaders is something that we’re all required to do, doc,” he said. “I can see why it comes in handy when you end up going to war with your neighbors...”

“Well, if he intends to throw the Ghosts into the fray... then maybe they have a chance,” Harvey noted, eyeing the giant clumping of griffon units sitting right atop of Helmguard. “Corporal Raymond’s—Scope, the coldest of the group—rifle, the one I’m sure everyone heard him test-fire before they left for griffon lands, was designed to be fatal even when wearing armor. If they manage to lure him into a position where they have a clean shot, they can end him without much trouble.”

“Then it will be their surest bet,” Luna said, finishing off the last of her cooling tea before continuing. “A prolonged battle within that fortress will spell death for all the loyalists involved. There is a good chance that even the Ghosts may also be in danger if the attack should end up faltering at any point.”

“It’s a battle that’ll go down in the books, that’s for sure,” Harvey said, taking the time to ingest his tea. Eyebrows were raised throughout the group when the sound of faint magical popping could be faintly heard on the castle grounds above them.

“Twilight is quite persistent,” Luna pointed out in jest. “Perhaps I should deter her from continuing her search here...” Luna rose and left the cup on the table for another one of her servants to switfly appear and remove it. “Have a pleasant night, you two.”





“Hmm, maybe it’s... here?! Oh, dang it...!” Twilight pulled her head out of another well-tended bush in a line of shrubbery in the Canterlot Royal Gardens. The sound of hooves clopping against cobblestone promptly caught her attention, and she found herself face-to-face with Princess Luna. “Oh! Hello, Princess Luna! You wouldn’t happen to know where a repository of knowledge might be kept around here, would you?”

“For one, I would imagine that it is not being kept within the confines of the gardens, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said. “Perhaps you should take your search elsewhere?”

“Oh, of course! I was just... kind of hoping that it would be here...” she mumbled.

“And why is that?” Luna asked.

“Because... well... Princess Celestia said that she took extra care to hide it somewhere really unassuming. So I imagined that it might be here in the gardens, because she probably thought that I wouldn’t look here!”

Luna merely blinked, letting the statement fade away into awkwardness until she began to giggle. “Dearest Twilight, I would imagine that my sister would be nowhere near as cruel as that. Have you tried looking within the Star Swirl the Bearded section of the Royal Archives?”

“I already did!” Twilight said, shaking her head in frustration. “There was nothing there... and I should know! I triple-checked the contents of all the shelves in there, and had it compared against the records that the librarian had on hoof! There hasn’t been a single new entry in there since ten years ago, official or otherwise!”

“I wonder what clues my sister has teased you with?” Luna walked past her, using her magic to return the bush’s contours back into its original unfettered state. “Surely she meant you to actually find this repository of yours and not... send you off on a busy task while she attends to the needs of the war?”

“What? But why...” Twilight said lowly. “She wouldn’t do that... we were supposed to have time for each other today... I’ve been so busy, and now with this war making everypony so nervous, I thought she would appreciate having the chance to just wind down, if only for a little while...”

“This isn’t the first time my sister has done such a thing, Twilight. You must realize that she means no harm in what she does: she only has the best interests of all of her subjects at heart... and that includes you. I would assume that she still intends to spend time with you after she is finished sorting out her matters.”

Luna nuzzled the crestfallen mare, nudging her lightly with her wing back towards the lit castle doors, guards standing on duty outside. Twilight groaned, but only for a moment; perhaps Luna was correct, and Celestia would see to spending time with her the next day. “Thank you, Princess. I’ll just... go get some rest. I feel really tired now for some reason...”

“I agree... you’ve spent hours into the night searching. But do not take my words too seriously, Twilight, for it was merely simple conjecture. I am sure that my sister has left a gift for you somewhere in the castle.” As they walked up the steps and entered back into the quiet halls within, Luna leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “Perhaps it is hidden somewhere more... familiar to you?”

“There’s no way she would... actually, I think you might have a point,” Twilight said. “Yes, there’s still a few places I haven’t looked through, but I think I’ll... I’ll...” She yawned and began to trot slowly down the carpeted way. “I’ll do it tomorrow... good night, Princess.”

“Good night, Twilight,” Luna replied. Perhaps a late night stroll in the gardens would be nice, but she heard the din of shuffling armor behind her and turned around.

She was greeted with two unmoving faces of her Night Guard standing directly behind her. At first, she’d taken offense to the fact that they might have been clearly staring at her royal hindquarters, but restrained her outrage and collected her inner calm, turning her shock into a relaxed curiosity.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” one of them said.

“Greetings...” she echoed. “For what reason do you stand before me?”

“That would be me, sorry,” a voice called out.

“Doctor Harvey?” Luna asked, looking around the hall. Aside from herself and the two guards, there was no one else, and the occasional pedestal with accompanying decorative flower pot were nowhere near large enough to hide the human. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” he said, standing up behind the two guards. “I was on my way back to my room when you and your friend there just barged through having your little conversation.”

“Oh, I... did not realize you were present in the halls,” she said apologetically. “If Twilight had seen you...”

“I’m sure she’s quite the talker,” he said. “But given that you’ve already sent her on her way, I don’t think there’s much else to worry about, is there?” Luna looked over her shoulder: not a single sight of the unicorn anywhere to be seen, and the hall was empty all the way down to the end.

“Wasn’t she just...?” Luna said.

“Nope, she teleported,” Harvey said. “Pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. Just a magical flash of magic and she’s gone! And now I can’t see straight! Okay, I’m going to just... close my eyes for a moment...” In a flash, the guards quickly split apart and caught the falling doctor with their wings, with a single wayward hoof stopping his glasses from falling off.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ll take him back to his room,” one said. They trudged past her, dragging the sleeping body of Harvey with them as they pulled a left on their way to the living quarters. Luna could hear the faint sound of snoring as she smiled to herself, before another guard, this time one of Celestia’s flew in from behind her and landed, throwing her a salute.

“Good evening, Princess,” he said. “Princess Celestia wishes to speak to you immediately.”

This night just never ended, did it?





“Do you really have a gift for Twilight?” Luna immediately asked as soon as she had passed through the doors into Celestia’s quarters. “Please tell me you do.”

“Of course I left her a gift, Luna,” she said, her voice laden with hurt at Luna’s accusatory tone. “Do you think I would simply lead my faithful student astray despite my current affairs? I would not be so harsh as to ignore my loved ones in favor of duties of the crown.”

“You’ve done it before...” Luna said quietly. Celestia realized her meaning, moving to comfort her before Luna cut her off. “So, you wished to see me?”

Celestia watched her carefully, taking in Luna’s expression before cautiously moving on. “Yes... I... I did want to see you. I wanted to speak to you about the affairs in the Empire, and your... proposed solutions.”

“Have you reconsidered your choice?”

“No, but I am willing to consider other methods. Please, sit,” Celestia said, gesturing to the free cushion beside her, both of them situated comfortably in front of the roaring fireplace. Luna obliged, settling herself in across from her sister and waiting for her to speak. “I apologize for the conduct of several of my officers during our meeting today.”

“It was nothing that I have not already heard, sister,” Luna said flatly. “I already know that my opinion is not welcome among most of the Guard. Shining Armor and few others are the exception, but I find that their voices of reason are rapidly drowned out by those who seek to air my past misgivings at every opportunity they can. It makes me feel like they’d shout it off of a mountain, if they didn’t remember just exactly who it was they were slandering.”

“Please, Luna, you must forgive them,” Celestia pleaded. “These are trying times and moods are... frayed. I am sure that they do not mean any harm in what they say, but they just want a... a...”

“It is fine, Celestia. You can say it.”

“...a scapegoat. An outlet for their frustrations, when the only true threat is so far away from Canterlot.” Celestia sighed deeply, shaking her head sadly. “I suppose it was a risk I had to take when I brought you back from your banishment. Your reputation precedes you in every mention I hear of you among our subjects.”

“It is fine,” Luna repeated. “Let us move on to other topics of discussion. I do not wish to talk about this one. You were discussing my solutions...?”

“Yes,” Celestia said, clearing her throat before continuing. “Well, I have taken what you said into account and... I believe it may be prudent to at least allocate some extra patrols to the regions you were concerned about.”

“And?” Luna said, expecting a catch to the offer.

“Only when we aren’t expecting an attack,” she said. “And given the recent reports from the scouts just outside of the passes, the griffons intend to return to the battlefield soon, that window will be short-lived.”

Luna sighed. The nuances of war meant more than just focusing on the next battle to come, and it irritated her. Were her sister’s subjects rubbing off on her? “I understand, but surely you have greater concern for the homefront than the battlefield, correct?”

“I do, Luna, but with our forces already outmatched by the griffons’, we need every available hoof, horn, and wing ready to repel any possible incursions.” Celestia looked away, staring thoughtfully into the flickering flames. “I only wish I still had the armies I had back in those days...”

“Such is the price of peace,” Luna said. “When greater evils are vanquished, it leaves no drive for the betterment of our defense. Then when yet another situation arises that demands that we truly need an army, we will be ready for it. But instead we have... what? Royal guards who haven’t seen anything on this scale since I was banished, leading an even greater army of... militiaponies, drawn from the ranks of civilians.”

“I recall at one time, you would be adamantly urging me to press the attack,” Celestia said, recalling an older image of a once-impulsive princess. “Has your mode of thought changed, Luna?”

“It may or may not,” Luna simply replied. “I am merely adapting my tendencies to match the current culture and situation. Since our focus is simply defense, we must push that agenda—aggressively. We need to make it so that the mere notion of crossing our borders would make the griffons turn tail and flee, not to simply wait for this turn of tables to shift its favor against us yet again.”

“But...” Celestia said, lowering her head towards Luna. Such methods had long since been phased out of her own military, and it amused her to see Luna still clinging onto a piece of the old world with her.

“But...” Luna said, sighing. “Again, the situation cannot allow it. At one time, the combined might of our Celestial Army could easily defeat any foe on the face of Equis, and every creature that breathed knew it. Reputation, numbers—yet more strategies that we cannot rely upon, and we certainly cannot fake them...”

“So you are fine with my arrangement, then?” Celestia interrupted. Her smile faltered when Luna simply stared at the ground before her, and the lack of an answer put her on edge. She hadn’t had the time to truly test Luna again since her return, and the Princess of the Night had been known to grow more than just cantankerous when things didn’t go her way. In all honesty, the lack of outbursts on Luna’s behalf was more than surprising.

“It is adequate, for now. Perhaps I am merely just overreacting...” Luna said. She was cut short when the doors to Celestia’s quarters bursted open, leaving a haggard guard standing in its wake and catching both princesses in surprise at the sudden arrival.

“Your Majesties!” he cried, stepping forward as his ruffled wings hung at his sides. His helmet was nowhere to be seen, and his regulation-trimmed mane only accompanied the dirt stained across his face. “I bring you news!”

“What kind of news?” Celestia asked, only for the guard to hold up a hoof as he gasped for air.

“There’s...” He gasped loudly yet again, clutching his chest. Celestia recognized his armor’s insignia: he was part of the Royal Guard contingent stationed at the pass just near Aerocem. “They’ve begun their attack again, and we’re... I don’t know how they were able to recover so quickly, but... we only barely managed to hold the line. I was given the order to return to Canterlot as soon as possible to notify our superiors and Your Majesties. There wasn’t any time to write out a proper message.”

“You have made good time, stalwart guard,” Celestia said, immediately pulling out a roll of paper, a quill, and an inkwell from the nearby office table across from her bed. A night attack from the griffons at this point in time was unexpected. “I dislike having to put you to another task so soon, but could you please find and give this letter to a Night Guard? And notify them that it is for the eyes of the intelligence analysts. They will know where to take it.”

“Right away, ma’am.” The guard smartly took the letter and tucked it in beneath his armor, then saluted and flew off towards the castle. Celestia left the comfort of her cushion, moving to peek outside the door before closing it.

“Does this mean that...?” Luna began.

“Yes, Luna,” Celestia said. “I am afraid that I must rescind my previous plans. Strongbeak’s influence is... maddening, if he can see fit to control dissent and wage war simultaneously.”

“You underestimate the far-reaching grasp of a tyrant, sister,” Luna said. “When one takes hold of every citizen’s life, it becomes easy to treat them like puppets, more so when you have fanatical followers willing to do your bidding to keep the unruly in line. Such was how I led my followers during the Nightmare Age, and it is how I assume Strongbeak leads now.”

“I’m very sorry, Luna. If we had the ponypower, I would put a dozen patrols to cover every route next to the mountain face...” Luna vacated her seat and trotted past her sister, exiting outside and watching the iridescent bodies in the night sky.

“I understand, sister,” Luna said quietly. “There is no way that we could have anticipated their counterattack so soon... but I will leave you to your tasks now. No doubt that the council will convene yet again to discuss what has just transpired. Good night, Celestia.”

Luna turned away and descended the stairs as Celestia began to voice her reply, only to stay mute as she simply watched her sister disappear down the stairwell. Conflicting thoughts flowed through her mind as she attempted to follow a course of action, fighting back that eerie feeling of trailing down a very similar path once before.

She swallowed hard, returning to her cushion and closing her quarters’ doors with magic. The only thing she waited for was the imminent gathering of the council, but that moment never came. She only hoped she didn’t make another mistake.





“Princess?” Shining asked, looking up from his report. “What brings you back so soon?”

“I wish for a letter to be sent to the Ghosts immediately,” Luna ordered. “We’ve just come under attack again.”

“What? Already?” He shuffled through his past reports, digging through them for the smallest scrap of information alluding to an attack. “But there’s... I thought they were busy dealing with the riots!”

“It turns out that these riots may not be as substantial as we once thought,” Luna said. “Perhaps this Eclipse project is a means to hold control over the griffons, not as a way to strike us.” She handed her sealed letter, bearing the sigil of the Equestrian Crown, to the nearest Night Guard. “Quickly. You must deliver this letter to the loyalists as soon as possible. Tell them that all other deliveries are second to this one. Waste no time.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the guard said, obeying her orders and whisking the scroll away.

“What do you have in mind for them, Princess?” Shining asked. “And there was a letter that came through here a while ago from Princess Celestia...”

“If they truly intend to go through with this asinine attack, then they will at least fare better with means to protect themselves,” Luna said, ignoring the contents of her sister’s letter. “It is all I can do for them at this point. Have you seen Captain Blacksword?”

“Blacksword?” Shining repeated, still able to recall the Night Guard despite only having met him once. “No, I haven’t... he retired back to his quarters several hours ago.”

“Tell him I want what little of my soldiers on guard duty to return to Canterlot, and to reassign them to patrol on the northwestern borders. If he needs any authorization or paperwork signed, tell him to send it to me. I want as many of them keeping an eye on our exposed routes of approach as soon as possible, and I do not trust my sister’s Royal Guard to be capable of doing it. No offense to you, of course, Sir Armor.”

“None taken,” he said. “I’ll let him know the first moment I see him.”

“And get yourself some rest,” Luna said, noticing the slight sway in his sitting stance and the bags under his eyes. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

“To be honest, it only feels like I’ve only started...”

“Promise me you will.”

He nodded. “I... I promise, Your Majesty. Just have to finish up this batch of reports and then I’ll head off to sleep.”

“Good. I would hate for your wife to see how you look right now.”

With a multitude of plans gathering strength in her mind, she left the Sanctum of Night to return to her quarters. In a way, she felt relieved that she didn’t have to participate in the affairs of the war council anymore, but could act on her own. Equestria would need to do more than just hold the line to win this battle, and for Luna, it meant defending her subjects, her sister, and herself from whatever lies beyond the darkness of shadow, where battles could not be fought.

It was one of the first steps of many she had in mind to making the griffons work for their prize; the other was to leverage this underhanded game that she played as much in her favor... and that meant supplying the Ghosts with any advantage she could. Though she could not offer much to enhance their impressive arsenal, within the scroll she sent to them contained special goods... medallions, ancient ones still imbued with the pure energy of alicorn magic itself.

The effects were nowhere near as morbid as what she imbued upon her most zealous of followers in the Nightmare Age, but shields in a battle of contemporary equipment was a huge boon indeed. She only hoped that they wouldn’t rely upon them too much during the assault...
> Storm the Walls
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Oh, Jesus, Scarclaw’s really serious about this, isn’t he?” Mendoza said, tossing another piece of kindling into the campfire. All around them, wagons and crates surrounded the Ghosts as the Imperial Guard and the rest of the loyalist forces prepared for the upcoming battle. “Remind me again: why are we assaulting this guy head-on?”

“Because Red Talon is there, of course,” Raymond said. “Helmguard’s our biggest obstacle into the rest of the griffon lands, and while the rest of Strongbeak’s forces are busy playing back-and-forth with the Equestrians and our distractions over at Kruvem, we get to cause some trouble in his backyard. And since Red Talon’s our intended target, why not kill two birds with one stone?”

“He has a point,” Pastor agreed, slicing bits of preserved meat into the boiling pot above the fire. “And from what I hear, military might has its own culture in the griffon military. Red Talon’s a tough player, so if we can take him down, it’ll show Strongbeak that we mean serious business, and give the rest of his soldiers something to think about.”

“Pff, yeah, right,” Mendoza said. “As if us killing the other generals wasn’t enough for him, huh?”

“Well, he has done a pretty good job at trying to keep that under wraps so far,” Bloodfury said, sharpening his sword next to them. “Next to Kruvem, this will be our next operation. There’s no way that any sane griffon can ignore the sight of Fortress Helmguard burning on the horizon.”

“Helmguard looks to be one boxed-up fortress,” Talbot said, examining the map atop of a crate in front of him. The only advantage that they held here over Kruvem was that Helmguard had only standard cannon powder instead of the magically-infused ones they’d captured at Kruvem. Charges had been fashioned from the infused powder and were set to be used to blow open an entrance at several positions around the perimeter of the fortress. “It’s going to be interesting, trying to beat this one...”

“Yeah, this is the first time where you guys will be charging in alongside us.” The grinding of stone on steel subsided as Bloodfury switched to polishing his sword. “It’s going to be a battle for the ages, that’s for sure. The entire place was designed to be a deathtrap for attackers from top to bottom, and Red Talon has an even larger contingent of elites at his disposal. I guess we’ll see how this turns out, given that, as griffons, we also know the layout of the fortress.”

“When you put it like that, this sounds like a lost battle already...” Mendoza chimed in, donning his balaclava and helmet. His visor clicked as it shimmered blue for several seconds before receding to darkness. “But I guess that’s why we’re here, right?”

“Exactly. When we create an entrance, you’ll be moving in with me and the rest of the Imperial Guard. The loyalist army will trail behind us on our flanks, and using our knowledge of the layout, we’ll carve our way to Red Talon.” Bloodfury slammed a fist into the dirt, tossing up bits of pebble and moss. “And then we’ll corner that bastard and take him down. It should be easy—heh, easy enough, that is—with your help.”

“Straightforward,” Raymond noted. “I like it.”

“It’s one of those things where it’s easier said than done,” Fellwyre said, appearing behind Talbot. He passed along smaller copies of the map, inked onto scraps of cloth and marked with important objectives all around the fortress. A final ‘X’ sat right upon the keep with Red Talon’s name scrawled in near it. “There are lots of horror stories about how Red Talon’s been... tough to kill.”

“Scarclaw’s the only one that’s managed to wound him, after challenging the old bird to a duel back before this whole tyranny business happened,” Bloodfury said. He shook his head as Fellwyre emulated him, both recalling memories that the Ghosts could not see. “Red Talon was defeated pretty handily, and he was nothing but indignant about his loss. He lost sight in his left eye after a damn good parry and stab from Scarclaw.”

“Maybe that’ll be our trump card,” Mendoza said hopefully. “We can blind him in the other eye and finish him off from there?”

“I can make sure of that,” Raymond said, gently tapping the top of the M107’s scope perched right next to him. “The only problem is making sure he stays still long enough... and if he’s prone to being overactive on his feet—claws, or whatever, then it’s going to be a tall order.”

“You leave that up to me and my soldiers,” Bloodfury said. “You guys can get yourselves set up somewhere nice and high, and we’ll work on trying to get him into your sights.”

“Someone’s going to have to be on the ground, though,” Talbot said. “We need to coordinate our plan of attack, and waving swords around and yelling over the sounds of battle isn’t going to work. Raymond, you and Pastor will be taking up the high ground. His D-kit will be useful in keeping watch over the entire area. Mendoza and I will take the ground.”

“Right up in their face, huh, sir?” Mendoza said, letting out a low whistle. “This is going to get a bit dicey, in a very literal sense. I’m no Speedy Gonzales, though, so don’t expect my footwork to be the best if we ended up getting hounded by griffons.”

“It’s fine. We’re just down there to maintain line of sight to the target and keep our sniper team apprised of the situation. Sensor grenades placed around the chokepoints of the courtyard will let us know if unwanted reinforcements are coming in, and we can notify the Imperial Guard before they reach us.”

“Well, I hope you guys are all ready for this,” Fellwyre said. He tossed several bombs in front of them, roughly larger than the size of their fists. “Don’t be fooled by the size... we packed that infused powder in pretty tight. It’ll blow a gate right off its hinges if you place them right, and right now, we need the Ghosts to set them up.”

“Fantastic,” Talbot said. The bombs were encased in a simple metal shell, with a hefty weight to its feel, but nothing that they couldn’t carry with them. “We’re going to be sneaking across the field with these?”

“That’s right. In fact, we’ll probably have you set up and light a number of them along a line underneath the walls. We already had teams that have managed to place stockpiles of extra bombs underneath foliage when we launched a night mission a couple of nights ago. The combined explosion from the blast should be more than enough to blow a clear entrance through their walls.”

“The more I hear about this plan, the more I’m liking it,” Mendoza said. “But if we’re going to be at ground zero for the explosion, where the hell are we going to hide?” He picked up one of the bombs, peering at the fuse before noticing that it stretched longer than his arm. “Oh... well, I think that’ll give us enough time to sneak away from the blast.”

“There’ll be lots of fog in the early morning, which is when our attack will start,” Bloodfury said. “That should be more than enough to cover all of our approaches, and when the bombs go off, we’ll be sure to charge in swords swinging.”

“Great,” Pastor said, bringing out wooden bowls to pour their stew into. “Now who’s up for some chow?”





“Talon, I am sinking into the ground. I repeat, I am sinking into the ground.” Mendoza groaned as his boots sunk further into the mud as they stood waiting at the hilltop a klick away from their campsite, and only a stone’s throw away from the wall. “I would like to humbly request that we get a move on... sir.” He idly moved a hand to the rucksack hanging behind his belt to ensure that his explosive ordnance was still with him.

“The air patrols have moved on now,” Talbot said, scanning the cloudy skies for signs of griffon formations. “Alright, let’s go.”

They sludged through the field towards the towering walls of Helmguard, letting the darkness of the mud and the cover of fog mask their advance. The lack of high grass in this particular region of the field made it hugely more easier to stay hidden, as they learned when griffons rediverted their attention to the presence of several wild hogs stomping around through grass on the other side of the fortress.

Water buildup at the base of the walls produced a laughable facsimile of a moat. They slipped in, letting the line of water trail up to their ankles as they began to search around for the stockpiles of bombs. The tall brush produced a canopy over their movements, and their nightvision proved to be useful under the low visibility conditions.

Pastor withdrew his map—not the battle map copy handed out by Fellwyre, but one that he had drawn detailing the positions of the stockpiles through careful collaboration. Firestarters of simple flint and steel were assigned to them, so all that was left now was to mark off the bomb stashes, light them up, and then run—or sneak very quickly—like hell.

“A fortress without a moat seems a bit strange,” Mendoza said.

“Griffons can fly, you idiot, moats would be useless,” Raymond shot back.

“Found the first stash,” Pastor interrupted, brushing aside a cluster of dry grass. The reflective shells of the bombs lighted his eyes, and he dropped a waypoint on the crosscom for reference. “That’s one so far. You guys find anything yet?”

“I’ve got one here,” Talbot said, further up the stream towards the gates. “I’m going to need a reference to see if this is the farthest one in the line. Two down, five more to to go.”

Mendoza’s swishes of moment stopped farther down the other direction, ending just right where the grass began to grow unhindered again. He caught a glint from the edge of his sight, and he waved a hand to push aside an unusually placed rock, revealing the cache behind it. “Got one here. How many between us?”

“Four more from yours to Shell’s,” Raymond said. “I ran through and counted them myself. Everything’s here.”

“We light every odd one and then make a run for it.” Talbot withdrew a lighter from his pouches, preferring the device’s simple flame than the unruly flint. “Seven here. Fuse will light the last one. Everyone else, we take two.”

Anvil echoed their acknowledgement as they began to set up their up their line of explosives. Cries carried on the air alerted them that the moment of attack was drawing near. The air patrols must have seen the advance loyalist forces and moved to intercept. “One hot!” Talbot said, calling out the numbered waypoint on his HUD.

“Three hot!” Pastor said.

“Five hot,” Raymond responded.

“Seven hot, I’ll see you guys on the flipside!” Mendoza said lastly, pulling himself out of the mire and hastening his retreat. The remainder of Anvil abandoned their careful movements, dancing with their fingers to light the fuses as fast as they could manage. They scrambled out across the incline, maintaining their cover as they followed their trail back.

“Seven seconds. Get a move on!” Talbot said.

Mendoza watched as his squad transitioned into a fervent sprint across the field once they’d reached halfway through, their exoskeletons thankfully taking the brunt of the physical work for them. The blotches of griffons in the sky began to grow as the time of detonation drew near. Bodies rolled right over the apex of the hill with one second left, and they braced themselves for dear life.

Gravity itself was tossed to the winds for that sheer moment, tumbling their bodies about as if they were nothing more than bounce toys. Their crosscoms hazed with static as the quaking did its due on their systems, only subsiding once they felt the comforting grasp of terra firma on their backs once again. Truly an explosion for the ages.

“That... was one hell of an explosion,” Mendoza gasped out, feebly attempting to right himself through the shellshock.

“It’s not over yet!” Bloodfury appeared as his soldiers charged past him as the assault commenced, extending a claw to help him out. Mendoza was caught unaware as Bloodfury tossed him upon his back, and Leret and another pair of Imperial Guards arrived to provide them with transportation. “We’re going in!”

The cracks of thunderous explosions failed to cease, as Helmguard fell under siege on all sides. Cool morning mist now coalesced into fog on their visors as they returned to the wall. A massive hole was left in the lower half, but the walls above still stood, conjoined by an arch of crumbling stone. War cries were let out as they charged through the entrance, and both sides met in battle.

A sudden obstruction in the form of a wall of steel soon met them, with Bloodfury altering his course for an ignored side alley for the Ghosts to disembark in. “Meet us at the designated point,” he said. “And try not to get yourselves killed!” And with that, the griffons disappeared back into the charging mass, complete with screams and metal ringing against itself.

“Consolidating information...” Pastor said, pulling out the battle map. Only the primary buildings like the barracks, mess hall, and keep were properly drawn out, with the rest of the fortress’ buildings lumped together into blocks. The entire southern side of Helmguard, where they were now, was such a block, with a clear line towards the keep through the alleyways. “We use the alleys to get to the keep. Go east-northeast.”

They navigated through the maze of alleys, narrowly avoiding several skirmishes as the griffons began to extend their range of combat into the constricted passages. The soothing tinge of mist in the air was soon replaced with the acrid stink of smoke as the battle began to shift in earnest. Fortress Helmguard now burned, and Strongbeak would no longer be able to play off the loyalists to the public when the Empire’s bastion fell to their ‘unorganized’ force.

The sight of the keep’s crenellations became visible with each alley they entered in the direction of their objective. All seemed well, until the their breakneck pace was brought to a standstill by a new revelation: the sound of discharge from a weapon of war they were all too acquainted with.

“Um... am I the only one who heard that?” Mendoza whispered. “Who else has a gun around here?”

“No idea... but I’m going to find out,” Talbot said, shifting his left hand down towards his belt and thumbing the button on the sensor grenade. A trio of red diamonds flashed above them, standing in a line on the rooftops directly above them. “Elites... with rifles.”

“Aw, shit, they’re using guns now?” Mendoza bemoaned. “Forget about the hows—this is bad. We need to off them before they can do more damage.”

“That would be the best course of action,” Talbot said. Finding a way up would be no problem, given how there were easily at least ten different ladders, all leading to the flattened rooftops of Helmguard. “We need them out as soon as possible. Everyone, up the ladders.”

They ascended, and fanned out as they drifted closer to the elites, whose rifles continuously popped off puffs of smokes as they fired down into the fray below. Talbot aimed, waiting for the lines of his comrades to follow as Pastor and Raymond followed. No words were needed as he took the first shot, piercing through the elites’ unprotected heads—their helmets were at their claws, no doubt showing that gunplay was a difficult business for them.

Raymond snatched one of the rifles as they dragged the bodies away, tossing them into the alley they’d come from to avoid detection. He cracked it open, staring down the rifle’s break-action barrel and ejecting the spent casing within. “This isn’t good... they’ve got the cartridge here: casing, powder, and even a rifled barrel... how the hell did they make this?” he said. He locked it back in and pulled the trigger, and nearly jumped back when the gun actually responded.

“Pretty sure our guns don’t do that when they’re not loaded...” Mendoza said, watching as a trail of smoke rose from the barrel. He picked up the spent casing and examined it closer, flipping it upside down and narrowed his eyes. “There’s no primer for this thing.”

“Probably magic,” Raymond said, unlocking it and pulling the trigger again. The visible hammer on the rifle struck a plate in front of it, and for the most fleeting of seconds, the plate flashed blue and produced sparks on the side opposite where the hammer had hit. “Yeah, take a look at that. It’s a magical primer.”

“Leave it here,” Talbot ordered. “The sensor doesn’t read any more of these guys around, so we move on. Let the griffons deal with the others as they come along.”

“If they’re elites, chances are the keep’s garrison might all be armed with these rifles,” Pastor warned. “What’ll we do if that’s the case?”

“Then we warn Bloodfury, and attempt to clear them out of the keep before we move onto Red Talon. The griffons can level the playing field if we can catch them off guard, force them into close combat, where they’ll at least have the advantage.” Raymond placed the weapon back onto the ground, following the rest of Anvil as they returned to the alley. The armor of the elites was toned down, their burdensome shoulder plating now replaced with bandoleers to carry their rudimentary, but effective, bullets. Lack of a proper uniform meant this development was... recent.

“Their rounds look dangerous enough. I think they’re around a .308,” Raymond noted. “Might even be armor-piercing. Can never know how this magical stuff works...”

A clatter of noise in the distance caught their attention, and they saw to see formations of griffons pouring from the keep’s tower through opening gates, flying for the walls. Even at range, the bulk of their armor was easily discernible: elites, and from the looks of it, the greatest number that they’d ever fought against, now standing in their way.

“Looks like Red Talon’s finally getting started,” Mendoza said.





Bloodfury spat aside another globule of blood. He let his helmet take the brunt of his next blow, the blade glancing off of its surface as he retaliated with a decisive stab to the gut. The griffon soldier caught in his weapon’s embrace fell slack as he pushed him aside, marking another casualty, and another step towards victory.

As he took the time to rest, moving to lean against a wall and letting his comrades push further, he heard it: the roar of challenge, from Red Talon himself. The pace of combat came to a lull that lasted only for a moment, and then all were at each other’s throats again.

“Looks like the good general’s warming up to us,” Leret said, kneeling next to Bloodfury. A stream of blood trailed down the side of his face, and he wore an exuberant grin.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bloodfury warned. “Fearsome is the general that can stand proudly on the battlefield with his griffons. We sometimes have craven fools like Whisper, but Red Talon is no Whisper, and you can bet that Scarclaw would be here leading us, if he wasn’t so busy at keeping us all organized.”

Leret laughed in return. “We have more than a few hardy veterans in our ranks,” he said, slamming Bloodfury’s shoulder lightly. “Like yourself.”

He nodded, and looked past Leret to see an elite upon the rooftops behind him, leveling something—a crossbow, he assumed—towards their position. “Get down!” he shouted, diving aside as the crack of the rifle split his ears. Sharp pain tore across his cheek, but he held his beak, the only trace of his pain a sharp exhalation as he looked back.

Leret had moved aside, shouting orders to his subordinates, but it wasn’t needed; the loyalist air units flanking their approach had already taken notice, and dived down to remove the sniper from his perch. A tussle of wing and feather ensued, and victory presented itself when a griffon descended to him with curious items in his claws.

“What is this...?” he wondered aloud. He took the weapon from the griffon, giving him a cursory nod as he returned to the skies. “It’s a... gun.”

“Griffon-made?” Leret said, his eyes taking in every detail of the rifle. “How’s that possible. We didn’t have anything like this a decade ago...”

“And I thought only the Ghosts had this sort of weaponry...” Bloodfury added, wiping the blood from his cheek. He handed the rifle over to Leret and began digging through the sack he was given. The casing of the bullet he withdrew was odd in appearance, but in the rare allowances he’d seen with the Ghosts maintaining their weapons, the similarities to theirs were shocking. “Where did Strongbeak get this sort of hardware?”

“Scarclaw told us that the Ghosts ended up here in Equestria through a portal. It might have been possible that there were more of them, and Strongbeak captured them?” Leret asked.

“No, it wouldn’t be... if they had more numbers with them, they would have tried to bring them onboard, or at least told us,” Bloodfury said. “I trust the Ghosts. They’ve been through many battles with us so far, but these signs aren’t good, for any of us.”

“They did take the alleyways. We can try to catch up to them through there.”

“Then we’ll do it. Leave the rest of our units to comb through Helmguard. We have some humans to find.”





“Snipers are all over the keep walls,” Pastor said, zooming in on the fortifications through his D-kit. Raymond was prone beside him, finally able to deploy his M107 in a particularly advantageous location over the entire bailey.

“The entire ground floor is empty,” Talbot said. He and Mendoza were on the ground, taking shelter behind a line of empty market stalls. “It’s clear they intend to ambush the loyalists here. Red Talon is in that keep, and he wants them to pay the price for trying to get in.”

“So what do we do, boss?” Mendoza asked. Diamonds blipped into existence as more soldiers began to exit from the keep’s towers to bolster their defense. “There’s easily got to be at least... fifty of those guys there. I don’t think the gates being closed is supposed to help, either.”

“The D-kit can’t see anything beyond the gate,” Pastor whispered. “They’re probably keeping it closed to prevent a ground assault and force a battle on the walls. Sensor grenades aren’t reading anything past it, though...”

His observations were driven askew as he was forcefully rolled over, instinctually grabbing his MR8 and prepared to drive lead into the face of whoever had done so. But he had been too slow, though he realized that, as his round seared through empty air, that it was fortunate that he’d done so.

“You guys are an absolute pain to find,” Bloodfury panted, releasing his grasp as he moved to conceal himself behind a chimney stack next to their post. “We’ve run into griffons with rifles. Do any of you know something about this?” He held up the rifle he held in his claws.

“Maybe,” Raymond said, his body remaining motionless as he continued to bear down the sight of his sniper rifle. “If this is new tech for griffons to be running around with, it’s a hell of a lot more advanced than anything they should be able to make. We had to take out a few of them on our way here.”

“So you don’t know anything about these, then?” he repeated.

“Unfortunately not,” Pastor whispered back. “We were hoping that you guys would be able to explain after this whole mess was over. The whole keep’s crawling with guys wielding those guns.”

“An ambush,” Leret said, crouching behind an upward protrusion of stone and shingles. “The rest of the forces are still fighting through Helmguard, and have only just reached the parade grounds. What’ll we do?”

“Since we haven’t been detected yet, maybe we can push an attack on the walls. Try to thin them out before the main force arrives, you know?” Bloodfury said, groaning under his breath. “That’s the hope, anyway... we’ll stand a better chance if the forces from the west and east get here and put them in a bind.”

Pastor leaned down to his comm. “What do you think, sir?”

“I think anything we can try here is crazy, but if we’re to see this through without taking the hit in numbers, we have to take our chances before the main force shows up,” Talbot said. “You and Scope will stay up there and provide sniper support for us while we move in to take them out.”

“And Bloodfury and Leret?”

“They’ll be seen as soon as they try to get anywhere near close, and I think it’s in our best interest that they stay alive.” Talbot’s signature began to move with Mendoza’s towards the keep’s side walls, where a narrow stairway sat barricaded at the top. “Fuse, do you still have your C4s?”

“Yes, sir, I thought you’d never ask. It’s only three blocks... might as well make the best of it, right?” Mendoza said. They slowly inched their way up the steps, avoiding the barricades but instead using their exoskeletons to simply hop over the parapet. “Area’s clear. I don’t think they’re watching this area... would probably be too easy to notice anyone getting in, anyway.”

“...Hello?” Bloodfury whispered to Pastor. “You’ve been quiet for a while. What’s going on?”

“We’re placing explosives on the wall to knock down some of their numbers,” Pastor replied. The griffons on the walls were preoccupied with anticipating the attack to check their rears for the interlopers placing explosives just behind them. Such an oversight would prove to be their downfall. “It should take out a good amount of them, and maim the rest.”

“Helpful.” Bloodfury’s sword was on his back, and he held the rifle, now loaded, in his claws now. It felt sturdy, light, built to griffonic contours, but he had no such experience firing a weapon before, only cannons. A portable cannon would hopefully prove easier to manage.

“It looks like our forces have Helmguard engulfed in battle now,” Leret said. Red Talon’s own air units flew by them unaware, the shadows of their hiding spots proving to be a boon in maintaining their cover. “I wonder where Fellwyre is.”

“He’s supposed to be with our reinforcements coming in from the east,” Bloodfury said, arching his head to watch the empty street below. “He must have gotten caught up in battles... or encountered rifle-griffons.”

“Shell, I think you need to check to see if there’s more of those snipers hanging up on the keep itself,” Raymond suggested. “We saw how those griffons came out of there earlier. There might be more of them in there.”

“Priorities first: we have to roll out the red carpet for our loyalist boys,” Pastor said. “Ready, sir?”

“Just dropped our last present,” Mendoza said. “We’re in cover behind the gatehouse further in. We can pop these babies and then open the gates.”

“Good. Do it,” Talbot ordered.

With Mendoza’s approval, the explosives detonated in a chain of three along the wall, throwing up a sudden wall of dust and stone chunks as the defenses were blown apart. What griffons that weren’t caught in the blast were thrown aside, sustaining crippling injuries that left only a few standing; a few that were finished off by quiet hisses from the barrels of a pair of suppressed MR8s.

“Walls are clear,” Talbot said, his and Mendoza’s floating names entering the shack “Opening the gates now.”

“Gates are coming open,” Pastor told Bloodfury. The griffon nodded in acknowledgement, watching as the entrance in the far distance clunked to life, chains pulling its weight up into the wall. “And there you have it.”

“That’s some impressive work,” Bloodfury said, turning as a slowly-retreating block of griffon soldiers back into the bailey from the east. Their shields were locked together, soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, as they attempted to fend off the ever-growing wave of loyalist forces. Thanks to the widened space given by the area, however, they were promptly encircled and overwhelmed as the loyalists graciously took advantage of their newfound ability to maneuver.

Fellwyre could be seen among them, giving orders as the soldiers began to pour into the keep. Bloodfury stepped out from cover, meeting eyes with him and exchanging a wave.

“There they are,” Raymond said. “Now all that’s left is to lure the general out, take him out, and we can call it a day.”

“This whole battle has been resoundingly successful so far,” Leret said. “Almost worryingly so. I would not be surprised if Red Talon has a contingency force stationed within the keep that’s as great as his garrison, if not greater. Force and numbers are his favored methods of war. Direct, honorable, and unfortunately predictable, but... difficult to contend with when guided under the right leadership.”

Griffon soldiers retreating from the other fronts, scattered and disorganized, funneled into the space below them, shrinking in the presence of the loyalists as they attempted to escape through the open gates. Many frantically looked around, repelling loyalists as they fought tooth-and-nail for control of passage through the gates.

“The trap! Spring the trap!” one of them shouted, in the hopes that their snipers would take heed and rain down fury upon their opponents.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Talbot said. “Let the loyalists deal with them. Shell, I need you to scan the keep’s upper towers for any more armed elites.”

“Yes, sir.” Pastor wheeled his D-kit further up the towering keep’s columns and hovered over the windows, looking for Red Talon. The fortress had an understandable lack of true windows, but did have the occasional balcony from which leaders could look down proudly upon their soldiers. He found himself drifting towards one, near the top of the tower.

And he found the unmistakable Red Talon, monstrous in his size, staring back down at him.

“Uh... I think I found Red Talon, guys,” Pastor said. “And he’s staring right at me.”

“The fuck? How does he even know we’re here?” Raymond said.

“I... oh, shit...” Pastor zoomed in on Red Talon’s face, ignoring what he believed to be the griffon equivalent to a sneer, and focused on the device attached to general’s helmet. The system of wires and boxes hanging off of the side was unmistakable, as was the visor bolted onto the front of his helmet. “The general has... magnetics...?” he said disbelievingly.

“How the hell did he get his grubby claws on those things?” Raymond asked. “Check again and confirm.” Pastor closed in his camera on the side of the helmet. Model numbers and wires hung precariously from its seat, and as Red Talon wheeled his head around, a symbol flashed past his eyes: the lightning-and-star emblem of the European Federation Enforcer Corps.

“I see you, puny two-legged worms!” Red Talon shouted. He jumped from her perch, diving through the air and towards the wall, where Talbot and Mendoza sat. The two barely noticed their assailant, and were promptly thrown aside when he landed with a crunching thud, Talbot snatched up in his gargantuan claws and staring straight into furious eyes.

“Aw, shit, he’s got the boss!” Mendoza coughed out, broken out of his cloak and sprinting to grab the MR8 he dropped as he went flying. “Shoot that asshole!”

“I know who you are, human,” Red Talon said to Talbot, as the Ghost captain slowly drifted his hand towards his secondary holster. The claws were like a vise, and Talbot had to grit his teeth as they squeezed his form. “You and the rest of your kind will die here, just like this upstart cause you fight for.”

On the other side of the bailey, Raymond peered his eyes through the scope, aiming straight for Red Talon’s head. “I’ve got him in my sights. Ready to fire.”

Talbot tightened the grip on his revolver. “Raymond...” he whispered, voice barely a mumble, caught only by the attuned microphone on his comms. “Take the shot.”

“Yes, sir.” Raymond, at the last second, flicked his sights from Red Talon’s head to his arms, and without even thinking twice, squeezed the trigger.

> Placing the Lure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The bullet exited the barrel of the M107 with explosive force, kicking up a trail of dust from the aged stone rooftop Raymond laid prone atop as it traveled over the courtyard and the battle raging below. Red Talon’s head stood well within its path of trajectory, but the general was more than wise to the results of a target’s head when up against firearms, and dipped as soon as he saw the cloud of dust appear across from him.

“Shit,” Raymond spat out. The Raufoss round narrowly missed Red Talon’s helmet, smashing into the wirebox attached to its side and tearing through the sensitive systems before hitting the cragged wall behind him.

“Your weapons won’t save you here!” Red Talon shouted, grasping at his helmet before realizing that his technological advantage had been destroyed in his effort to evade death and bellowed angrily into the sky.

“Time to bug out,” Pastor said, tapping Raymond on the shoulder as he slowly fell back. Raymond packed up the M107, stuffing it back into its carry case and was immediately behind Pastor at the ladder, nodding at Bloodfury and Leret to follow. While the griffons simply glided to the ground, the Ghosts had to use the ladders; the creaking as they descended was thankfully obscured by the sound of battle.

Talbot took the general’s moment of reprieve to swing out his revolver, planting a round straight through the general’s partially-exposed wrist. The death grip on him released, and he took the opportunity to roll toward Mendoza, who hid behind a stack of hay bales, as several loyalist griffons landed on the battlements and bought valuable time for Talbot to reach safety.

“You okay, sir?” Mendoza said, pulling Talbot into his hiding place and checking him over for injuries. “Can you breathe?”

“I can breathe,” Talbot said, swatting away Mendoza’s hand as his camouflage kicked back in. He holstered his revolver and switched the grip on his MR8 back to his right hand. “Just give me time to catch myself. Shell, do you copy?”

“I copy you, sir. We’re on our way to reach you, but the whole courtyard’s filled with soldiers. I’m going to try to get Bloodfury and Leret to fly us to your position.”

Talbot coughed violently as he finally calmed down enough to steady his nerves and catch his breath. “Negative, we are pulling back. We can’t take Red Talon here on these walls, he’ll tear us apart. Lure him out into the combat, use the battle to our advantage.”

“I confirmed a hit on the helmet before we had to bail,” Pastor said, equally nervous as Talbot could see his crosscom position hiding away in the alley with Raymond and the griffons behind them. “The box came off, but I’m not sure if those were the magnetics. It might have just been a flashlight.”

“Either way, Red Talon’s absolutely pissed.” Talbot peeked out the side of his cover to see Red Talon engaged in close quarters combat with three loyalists. Between the flurries of movements and strikes, he could see a monster of a rifle—less of a rifle and more of a long-barreled griffon-portable cannon—and a greatsword on his back. “And it looks like he has the firepower to match his temper.”

The griffons engaging Red Talon were clearly outclassed by the better breed of soldier: despite the general’s larger size, he had no problems navigating the rooftops, using his wings in conjunction with his own movements to dodge and strike at the loyalists where they were unprepared for an attack. The loyalists themselves were easily pushed to the defensive, circling around Red Talon as the general, fighting unarmed to the unease of the loyalists, smiled with confidence.

A wave of smoke trailed in, leaking over the walls and lessening Talbot’s visibility of the fight as it progressed, and the occasional falling feather as the griffon air cavalry duked it out in the skies warned Talbot that relocation would soon be needed. “Switch to magnetics. I think we have something,” Mendoza said to him.

Talbot’s visor shuttered to an abyssal dark blue, and allowing him to see what Mendoza saw: while the general had the sense to use magnetics of his own, certain parts of his own armor had faint light-blue markings of equipment on them, enabling them to track him in turn. It was a zero-sum game so long as both sides had the vision mode, and Talbot wasn’t willing to bet on winning if they played their cards right at that moment.

As Red Talon continued to flail around, deftly countering a thrusting strike from one of the loyalists, a pop rang out in the air and a bullet struck him in the shoulderplate. Eyes from both the human and the griffon frantically searched around, landing upon a tower to the southwest: loyalist forces bore battle-scuffed rifles as the bodies of imperial soldiers lay unmoving behind them.

“We got to move,” Mendoza said, laying a hand on Talbot’s shoulder and pulling him back behind cover. “Can you stand?” A shower of crumbling rock fell on them as a cannonball collided with the side of the tower, following by dozens more. “Shit, they got the cannons set up. We have to go!”

“Fellwyre’s got you guys, just hang tight, he’s sending some your way to take off the steam,” Pastor interjected. Loyalist forces bounded over the rooftops approaching the battle, shifting the odds with another set of appropriated rifles. A line formed up at the rooftop where Pastor and Raymond had been, with the squad leader synchronizing their shots before letting them loose.

The soreness in Talbot’s chest flared as he attempted to upright himself, and he latched onto Mendoza as they made their way for the wall furthest away from the tower. The sky’s sanguine glow was pockmarked by the rising columns of smoke in the distance as cannonballs arced over the walls and into the castle of Fortress Helmguard.

Mendoza looked over the wall, shaking his head at the sight of soldiers pouring into the courtyard from both sides. “Shit, we can’t make it down there. Maybe we can try to find another way.”

“Fuse, Bloodfury and Leret have just entered the battle,” Pastor said. “I’ve lost track of them, but they should be heading your way to bail you guys out.”

“Negative,” Talbot said. “Target is in sight. We have to take him out.”

“The guy’s built like a tank. We shouldn’t risk it until we can leverage the kill in our favor, sir. If worse comes to worst, we can use Fuse’s rocket launchers to turn him into a red smear on the ground, but those are assets we shouldn’t commit to using just yet.”

“If I can find another vantage point, I can set up and attempt to neutralize the target,” Raymond offered. “A direct hit, even just one, should be enough to penetrate his armor and wound him. That’s all we need.”

The battle between Red Talon and the group of loyalists reached its first milestone: a cry of pain escaped from one of the loyalists as Red Talon with a draw and a deadly slash with his greatsword, a pool of blood spreading beneath the hapless soldier. “Insolent humans!” he shouted, grabbing his helmet and tearing it off in a fit of rage. “You will not escape me! I do not need your toys to win this war, unlike the curs that think that they can take my fortress!”

Red Talon grinded the blade of his greatsword against the floor, feinting charges against the two remaining and causing them to flinch. The line of rifle-griffons fired another volley, but he crouched down low before taking to the air and delving straight for their formation.

The rifle-griffons reacted by scattering, switching out their weapons for swords. Red Talon made short work of the closest griffon to him, who fumbled with his weapon, clipping a wing and kicking him off the roof. The body landed behind Raymond and Pastor. “Damn it... Fuse, is the wall clear?” Pastor asked.

“It’s as clear as can be,” Mendoza said, watching the two remaining griffons on their wall joined their brothers in the courtyard below. Only he and Talbot remained on the walls now, and he peeked over the wall again. The battle was now in favor of the loyalists, pushing Red Talon’s army back towards the keep.”

Two shadows zipped past his face, pulling high into the sky before coming down for a landing; Bloodfury and Leret landed softly behind them, throwing up enough dirt for their forms to register against the cloud of dust. “Oh, there you are,” Bloodfury said. “I’d say we should move you, but...” He nodded towards the altercation on the roof.

“Mind if you can grab our two other Ghosts?” Mendoza said. “We can set up here, and if you can keep him occupied enough, we can bring him down.” He pointed at Red Talon in the distance, who grabbed a griffon soldier by his legs and tossed him into a descending attacker. “Just keep him busy over there, and we’ll try to set up a shot.”

Bloodfury inhaled and let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, then. We’ll go get Scope and Shell, bring them to you, and then we’ll see if we can’t keep him busy.”

“Is he that bad?”

“Bad?” Leret said jokingly. “Red Talon is unmatched in combat. Most griffon generals are.. He will kill many of our own soldiers before we finally take him down, but it is considered an honorable death. Likewise, besting a general is an honor in itself.”

“But can you take him?” Talbot asked. “I don’t want to risk your lives if we have to.”

“We are the Imperial Guard, the finest in all of the Griffon Empire and trained as well as any general,” Bloodfury said with a sure slam of his fist against his chestplate. “Don’t worry, we can handle him.”





“Alley-oop!” Leret said, releasing his grasp on Raymond as he watched the Ghosts fall to the floor and break into a roll.

“Good luck!” Bloodfury said, waving Leret along as they circled around and redirected to Red Talon. The general had built up for himself quite the crowd, being the focal point for a battle that involved loyalist and imperial forces alike, and was fighting them roof to roof. The regrouped Ghosts convened as Pastor handed a set of binoculars to Talbot.

“It’s a clusterfuck out there,” Raymond warned. “Red Talon’s blocks away from here, and it’s just too hot to move through the streets.”

“Well, we could always move into the tower,” Mendoza said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. His rocket pods clicked and beeped, angling over his shoulder as his visor calculated his payload’s trajectory. The red-tipped rockets returned to their holster; Mendoza nodded as the tracking completed. “You might get a clean shot from there.”

“The tower might not be empty,” Talbot said, screening out the horizon. The congregation that Red Talon had acquired was far too variable to land a clean shot, much less attempt to use explosives without collateral damage. Though he could see Bloodfury and Leret joining them, the major presence on their alliance was mostly regular loyalist soldiers, distinguishable by the royal blue colors on their cloaks to contrast the imperials’ red. “We need somewhere to set up the M107...”

Handing the binoculars back to Pastor, Talbot looked to the tower. Though not the largest building in Fortress Helmguard, it remained physically close to the keep, having several levels of entranceways that connected the two. From where he stood, he could see the balconies that Pastor had seen, all facing away from the keep and towards the rest of the fortress proper, and another escape venue if they find themselves in a bind.

All of which made it an excellent spot for them to set up. “Let’s get up to one of those balconies,” Pastor said. “Higher ground should help our chances of delivering the shot.” Motioning towards the darkened alcove where Red Talon had landed at, the Ghosts moved in two columns to stack up at the simple double doors.

Mendoza took point, kicking them down with no resistance as the rest of Anvil followed him in, peeling away to check their angles. A rush of air ran through the room, kicking up a trail of dust that led up the staircase at the far corner. Flames of old torches wavered with the flow, producing a faint light that did little to enhance the brightness of the room.

“Cozy,” Mendoza said, kicking aside a pile of rotting timber at his feet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we just walked into a crypt.”

“Up the stairs,” Talbot said, taking the lead and beginning the trek up to the higher floors. Mendoza sighed dejectedly and took up the rear of the group, exaggerating his panting by the time they’d reached the third floor.

“PT time, everybody,” Pastor said. “I swear we’ll never see the end of these.”

“Everybody gets one,” Raymond said, controlling the pace of his breathing as they continued higher. “Grueling stair climbs. It’s a Ghost tradition.”

Every floor they passed held an empty hallway, the tower unoccupied as its garrison been called to arms. Most floors had a lonely stone wall at the end with a window guarded by grated bars where a balcony normally would have been, and from what Talbot judged from a glance, the first balcony wouldn’t be for another—

And there it was, a flash of red off the corner of his eye. “There,” he said, recounting his steps back to the doorway and sizing up the hall from behind his iron sights. “Hall’s clear. Move in.”

They stuck to each side of the hall in twos, passing by open rooms: quarters, a library, an armory, and even a kitchen. The balcony served as a surveying point for astronomy, with papers detailing star systems and celestial bodies in the griffonic language on a table of papers, complete with a telescope.

“Setting up,” Raymond said. Mendoza covered their flanks with a lengthy toss, planting a sensor grenade above the stair doorway; the resulting ping from the sonar detected no enemies.

With the bipod sturdily held in place on the railing, Raymond positioned the M107 and stared down the scope. Next to him, Pastor set up the D-kit, and hundreds of neutral and enemy signatures appeared on their crosscoms, the size of ants against the greater landscape below. “Hold tight, searching for Red Talon now...”

“No need, I see him,” Raymond said. A greater red diamond appeared in the center of the fortress grounds, and he leaned into the rifle as its barrel inclined lower. 

Talbot mentally tallied the floors: the balcony was ten levels above the walls, but he’d sworn he’d seen cannons higher on the tower. Red Talon had no wish to fire upon his precious fortress, no doubt, and couldn’t engage the loyalists without knowing where they were, which he only learned too late. Being able to use them was out of the plan: nobody in Anvil had the experience firing a cannon, despite the appeal of being able to do Red Talon in with a well-placed cannonball to the face.

“Do you have a clear shot?” Pastor asked, eyes still staring down the sights of his D-kit. Beyond the smoke that continuously ebbed on and off into their line of sight, the general haze would have made it nearly impossible to maintain the crosscom profile lock without the D-kit. “Red’s moving west, check your sights.”

“I got him,” Raymond mumbled. Red Talon was hopping from roof to roof, keeping his mobility high to avoid being pinned by the rifle teams, not to mention launching his own attacks against them. The loyalist army shifted around, chasing him in circles as the Imperial Guard were the only ones able to keep up with him. “Negative on clear shot.”

“Come on, Bloodfury,” Pastor said. “Keep him still, at least. I think we might have better luck trying to poke holes in this bastard at point blank.”

“He’s pulling out his gun now,” Raymond said. The cannon of a rifle that Red Talon brought out coerced soldiers, on both sides, to seek cover immediately. A poor griffon caught behind a wall in its aim turned to feathers and red dust when the weapon discharged. “Damn, I can’t get a shot here. He keeps moving around even with that gun of his.”

Talbot flicked through his crosscom, unsure what to do. “Maintain the watch here, Fuse and I will head downstairs.”

“We will?” Mendoza asked.

“Yes,” Talbot said. “And we’ll be the ones to keep him still long enough for Scope to put a bullet in him.”





“Well, what the hell are we going to do?” Mendoza said. Following Talbot down the stairwell, repeated inquiries to Talbot’s plan had gone unanswered, and his frustration only grew with each step they took. “Bloodfury and Leret are trying right now, and they don’t look to be succeeding.”

“I don’t know,” Talbot said honestly, waving Mendoza right as they checked each floor again on their way down “I’m thinking this through as I go. We need to off him soon before his reinforcements show up and chase us out of here. Tesseraka is only just north of here, and they’ll certainly have noticed our attack by now.”

“We could just do what Ivanir’s team did in Russia,” Mendoza said. “Run interference, lay out some impromptu ambushes, and hope our legs don’t give out when he comes chasing after us.”

Talbot stopped. “Ivanir’s team... hmm...”

Mendoza’s eyes widened, and he tried to wave him off. “Whoa, whoa, I didn’t mean that seriously... I mean, we all know what happened to Chuck on that one, and I don’t think I want to join him on the other side like that.”

“Chuck died trying to defuse a nuclear warhead,” Talbot pointed out. “Not because he tried to lead an armed assault drone through the lanes of an abandoned factory on foot.”

A sudden clank at the foot of the stairs caused them to stop. Talbot and Mendoza braced against the wall as heavy footsteps began to climb up the steps. Eventually, the bulky size of an Imperial Guard carrying a torch entered their vision, nervously mumbling to himself as he began to call out, “H-hey, Ghosts! Are you in here?”

“Yeah, we are.” Talbot’s hushed response caused the soldier’s body to go stiff. “Don’t panic. We’re standing right here with you. What do you need?”

“Uh... they... we got a message straight from headquarters,” he said. He sheathed his sword, pulling out a small knapsack and holding it in the empty air in front of him. “Here. This parcel comes straight from Princess Luna. She says that the contents of this bag will help you.”

“Help us how?” Talbot asked.

“They’re enchanted medallions, or so the message went. They supposedly have shield enchantments on them, to protect you from any harm that might come to you in case the imperial soldiers get too close to you.” As soon as the guard felt a tug on the bag, he immediately released his grip and recoiled his arm instinctively, eyes looking around in the darkness.

“Thank you,” Talbot said, gripping the bag in his right hand as the bag joined him in his illusory mirage. “You’ve done well. You’d best get back to the battle. Sergeant Bloodfury could use your help.”

“The sergeant!” the soldier exclaimed in reminiscence. “I’ll go help him right away. Good luck, sir!” He disappeared back down the stairway. Talbot dug into the bag, retrieving one of the medallions and eyeing the inscriptions along its circumference.

“So... shields, huh?” Mendoza said. “Do you think we get double the effects if we wear two at a time?” he continued, watching as Talbot withdrew four medallions, one for each of the Ghosts.

“No idea,” he said, but handing two to Mendoza anyway. With Pastor and Raymond up at their perch with the sensor grenade overwatch, they wouldn’t be needing the shield medallions any time soon. “But this just increased the survivability factors more in the case of the plan I have in mind. Assuming that these things work, that is.”

“If it’s from the Princess, I see no reason why it shouldn’t...” Mendoza said, scratching the alicorn head on one of his medallions. “But these things look... old.” He sniffed one of them and gagged. “Smell old, too.”

“I think you’re missing the point of ‘ancient magical artifacts’ here, Fuse,” Talbot said, exchanging an amused glance with him as a faint blue shimmer flashed over their camouflage, then faded as suddenly as it had came. “Well, I think that means something, doesn’t it?”

“Right, well... let’s hope we don’t have to rely on these, huh?” Mendoza said with an uneasy laugh.

“You and me both,” Talbot said, continuing down the steps. “Shell, sitrep on Red Talon.”

“Target’s jumping still, sir, doesn’t look like he’s going to stop anytime soon. Wait, hold on, he’s headed back down our way. Right on the mark, Scope, downwind three hundred meters. Fire when ready,” he said, followed by a crack from the M107. “Negative on hit, struck the floor behind him.”

“Has he noticed you?”

“I don’t think he has. Must be the fact that he’s surrounded by griffons with rifles, kind of makes it hard to pay attention to another bullet flying at you. Scope, steady now, let’s pace our shots here. Might just hold off until Bloodfury can get him to hold still.”

“Good. I’d rather not—”

Talbot froze. On the stretch leading back to the doors and outside was the body of the Imperial Guardsgriffon that had delivered their package only moments before. Shuffling quietly, he and Mendoza took up spots at the doorway, looking out at the corpse as blood began to pool underneath it.

“You went quiet, sir, what’s going on?”

“Trouble.” Talbot reached down and activated the sensor grenade on his belt, then crouched down and aimed straight down the hallway. He panned left and right, eyes remaining glued on shimmers of air downrange, but hoping that his assumption wouldn’t be correct.

It was.

“Madre de dios...” Mendoza whispered. Profiles of rifle-armed griffons, four in total, appeared where nothing once stood, examining the corpse of the guardsgriffon and talking to each other. “These guys have adaptive camo?”

“Red Talon had EFEC equipment,” Talbot said, looking at him. “They might have gotten more than just magnetics. Clearly, these guys don’t have any.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They’re not wearing fitted helmets.”

“You’re kidding. The griffons have cloakers now?” Pastor broke in.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Raymond growled. “Send them my regards.”

“Swap to magnetics, sync for headshots,” Talbot ordered. The closest two, squabbling over the split of the dead soldier’s belongings, had two lines traced on them as he and Mendoza synced their shots. “Go.”

A pair of bodies dropped onto the floor; the other two griffons looked up in surprise as they rushed over to check on their comrades, seemingly shocked to find they were dead. They suffered the same fate, inexperienced with the nuances of camouflage, even when Talbot and Mendoza had broken their own by taking their shots, heads and rifles still poised for more targets.

“You think the Enforcer Corps are working with the griffons, sir?” Mendoza asked.

“No evidence to say for sure,” Talbot said, killing the crosscom feed of the defunct neutral target reticules by shutting off his sensor grenade. “But if the EFEC is present, it’s bad news for us if they’ve got their own soldiers here. The last thing I want to worry about right now is Kommandos breathing down my neck.”

“Well, let’s look on the bright side,” Mendoza said, a smile underneath his balaclava. “At least we might have a way home now, right?”





“Well, that changes a lot,” Talbot said. “There.” He pointed at the mass of feathers and steel clamoring towards them over the roofs as the whole flock altered direction. “He’s changed his course again.”

“How’re we going to get his attention?” Mendoza said.

“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Talbot replied. Behind them, several barrels marked with the symbol cautioning explosives sat in a neatly-arranged group next to the wall’s unused cannons; they snuck over and he pointed to the griffonic writing. “We give him a big signal to look for. And our point of detonation will be their armory, which, according to the map we got, is only just north of here, in its own walled off compound.”

“Think the armory’s got more?”

“Plenty more, maybe some of that infused stuff like in Kruvem if we’re lucky.” Talbot tapped the side of his helmet. “Did you get that, Shell?”

“Loud and clear. We have a good shot to the armory from here. Place is like a small castle: keep with a nice flat roof to keep him occupied on, surrounded close by walls and towers on all sides. Looks like they’re pretty busy themselves since the loyalists are pushing on it hard.” Pastor painted the route from the walls to the armory: though the fighting had died down—and a special marker showed Fellwyre leading the charge against the armory—small skirmishes still littered the fortress grounds. But Talbot noticed patterns, and plotted out a route through the alleyways to avoid the worst of it.

“Back down, Fuse, move fast,” he said. They skirted west, moving down a flight of stone stairs and weaved through the path, eventually catching the tails of a losing battle. Loyalists had taken up refuge behind a bombed-out building, aiming their rifles in every direction as they were suppressed by unknown assaulters.

“Sensor on?” Mendoza said, receiving a nod from Talbot. The bottom corner of the wall didn’t give them much visual capability, but the sensor picked up targets: more cloakers, discernible with their light armor and lack of helmets. They shuffled around, regrouping to attack at a flank the loyalists assumed to be safe: on the building behind them, up high on the roof.

“Tangos moving, ten o’clock, up high, move to intercept,” Talbot ordered. “Keep them painted, Shell, do you read?”

“Copy on move to intercept, will update as needed. Red Talon has diverted course again, and—targets moving up the tower. Will engage if needed, camo is still up.”

“Roger,” Talbot said, splitting off from Mendoza as they took separate routes up to the roof: himself, a ladder to a rooftop overlooking the flanking position, and Mendoza following the griffon cloakers from the rear to ambush. When he pulled himself up and took cover behind a chimney, it was a clear block or two from their position to the armory. He was at least grateful for a short trek. “Fuse, you set up?”

“Coming up behind them now, ready to engage.” Again, Talbot noticed that this group operated with a number of four. He wondered if it was reflective of the nature of special forces, gleaned perhaps from the EFEC members that they may have encountered and received their equipment and knowledge from. “In position, on your mark.”

Mendoza was set up behind a knocked-over portion of what had once been a chimney, on what had once been a second floor, roof mostly destroyed but with most of its flooring still intact. From his view, Talbot looked down and saw the griffons communicating, using claw signals that mirrored ones used by the human military. “Line up targets, starting at the rear.”

“Roger.” The cloakers reached the edge of the roof, peering down below and setting themselves up for their ambush. Mendoza picked the rearmost cloaker to himself, on the roof’s far side from Talbot’s point of view. Talbot took the other, watching him slowly sneak forward oblivious to the mark drawn upon his head.

“Mark.” Splatters of blood coated the roof as the temporary confusion from the deaths granted them the window they needed to switch targets. Talbot’s next target was dead before he could react, but the other turned around in time to see Mendoza staring him down from behind the barrel. The pause in that moment before he raised his rifle was coupled only with his slight recoil, as if he’d seen death itself before Mendoza fired.

“Roof is clear,” Mendoza said. “Makes me wonder how many of these guys they have if they’re running around loose like this.”

“Targets down,” Pastor confirmed. “We had some griffons snooping around here, don’t really know what they were looking for. They bugged out a few minutes ago, and we heard them talking about the bodies they found in the entrance.”

“We lost an Imperial Guardsgriffon,” Talbot replied. He slid off the roof and landed two stories down, letting the exoskeleton cushion his fall. His cloak fizzled for a moment, nearly catching the attention of the loyalists who had successfully fought their way out of their position with the Ghosts’ help, but he dived aside quickly enough to avoid suspicion, aside from one griffon giving a halting glance down the alley before his comrades urged him on.

“The cloakers got him,” Mendoza said, descending from the pile of rubble to join with Talbot. “Don’t mean to treat the guy’s death any less, but that might have been us bleeding out down there. We had no way of knowing these guys had camo.”

“They’re working their way through our arsenal.” Talbot frowned. He knew that the advantage given from using human equipment would be too large to ignore, and they already had the basics: rifles, cloaking, and magnetics, although the last seemed to be more of a loan than actual reverse-engineered technology. How much had the EFEC given them, he wondered? He’d have to speak to Scarclaw about this. “They might be able to match our loadouts.”

“They have some of our kit, yeah,” Pastor agreed. “But I would expect that they’d get more than just the know-how to make their own rifles and basic cloak tech if they were working with the Federation.”

“It’s a bit strange.” Talbot and Mendoza checked over their magazines, both sitting at half capacity as Talbot directed them to a higher roof nearby to the north of the blown-out building. “Last I recall, Maynard may have gotten the data on constructing the portal from somewhere. Given the Federation’s standing with cutting edge technology, it’s possible that he may have stolen it from them.”

“So you’re saying that the Federation might have sent soldiers to this place before us.”

“It’s not ‘might have’, they definitely did. Red Talon has human equipment, and we need to know how the griffons got their hands on it, but we have priorities. Redirect the D-kit onto the armory,” Talbot said, climbing up stairs squished between two buildings that exited to a roof with a clean view of the armory next to it. He and Mendoza went prone, edging closer to the armory walls: there were no guards, and what ones they could see were on the towers, bodies laying lifeless. The sounds of heated battle carried on behind the walls.

“Wow, Fellwyre works fast. There used to be dozens of guards on those walls minutes ago.” Pastor dropped a waypoint on their map: in the alley between the buildings and the armory walls, there was a breach in the walls. Bodies of dead griffons lay around it, with a number of explosive barrels used to effect the entry knocked over or broken open on the other side of the walls. “The buildings aren’t that tall. I can at least see that much, but you’ll have to find where they’re keeping the stockpile inside yourself.”

Hearing shouts on the wind, Talbot looked below and was graced with the sight of Fellwyre leading a squad to the breach. The griffon supervised his group, ordering them to fetch the barrels and bring them elsewhere for usage: the keep, the other gates, and the towers on the northwest side of the fortress. The griffons under his command hurried, each claiming a barrel or scooping up as much blackpowder in bags as they could before setting off.

As the last loyalist left, rolling the barrel away as he did so, another squad arrived, which Fellwyre ordered through the breach and into the battle. Fellwyre paused for a moment, checking over his map and discussing positions with his own squad before they, too, entered the armory compound. Realizing that Fellwyre had no intention of staying still, Talbot tossed a rock, waiting tensely as it bounced off of the wall next to Fellwyre’s head.

“What in the—” Fellwyre pulled out his sword, turning and looking up and down the alley. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” he demanded.

“Psst,” Talbot uncloaked, waving at him from the roof. “Fellwyre. It’s me. Captain Talbot.”

“Talbot?” Fellwyre said, scanning the alley again before he drifted closer. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be dealing with Red Talon?”

“We ran into some problems,” Talbot said. “Red Talon isn’t keeping still, so we’re looking to make a distraction to draw his attention.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Blowing up the powder stockpile in the armory,” Talbot replied. Fellwyre raised a brow to this. “Only the powder stockpile. We’re trying to draw him here for a massive battle, keep him rooted in place while his attention is distracted. Bloodfury and Leret were supposed to keep him stationary, but that hasn’t been turning out well so far.”

“Actually, sir,” Pastor said. “It doesn’t even look like they’re trying to keep him in place anymore. They’re just trying to straight up kill him now. Seems like a better idea given how well we’ve done so far. Scope’s taken two more shots since then, both went wide because the asshole just keeps jumping.”

“Thank you for that, Shell,” Talbot whispered into his mic, before continuing to Fellwyre with, “We’ve taken three shots already, and all three missed.”

“I forget,” Fellwyre said, sidestepping to a stack of boxes as figures darted back and forth at the mouth of the alley. He looked upwards, standing directly underneath him now. “The size of your projectiles is larger than the imperials’, correct?” he asked.

“Correct,” Talbot said with a nod. “They’re armor-piercing, designed to inflict grievous damage upon the target after penetrating the armor. All we need to cut Red Talon down to size is to hit him once. After that, taking him out would be trivial.”

“And if we can do that, we’ve won this battle,” Fellwyre agreed. “Well, that’ll be outstanding. The reinforcements will definitely follow suit once they’ve seen Strongbeak’s finest cut down to size.”

“Reinforcements?” Talbot asked, looking up at the skies trying to discern whether or not the population of griffons in the area had grown by any considerable amount. “Just how much backup are we talking about here?”

“Strongbeak has had patrols running beyond the walls of Tesseraka since the war began, consisting of nothing but his elites, who hold the capital hostage with an iron fist. The moment the patrols get wind of the attack on Helmguard, they will certainly rush to its rescue, but if we can kill Red Talon before they get here, they will flee. The loyalists will have shown their power by eliminating one of the Empire’s greatest generals and taken its largest bastion.”

“I must have missed the memo on this,” Talbot muttered. “And we didn’t cover this in the briefing why?”

“There was no need to concern ourselves with it,” Fellwyre replied calmly. “If the reinforcements arrive before we can eliminate Red Talon, then the battle is lost anyway. We simply do not have the numbers to fight against both the garrison and the reinforcements simultaneously. Scarclaw knows this, and designed the plan to hinge upon your success.”

“Fantastic,” he said. Talbot threw a look to Mendoza, who merely looked surprised and gave his best noncommittal shrug, and followed with his own exasperated sigh. “Okay. Shell, did you catch all of that?”

Pastor snorted over the comm. “Yeah. No pressure, huh?”

“We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t do it,” Raymond said assuredly. “Now hurry it up. My trigger finger is getting itchy.”

“Copy that.” He was about to reply to some of Fellwyre’s squad returned, wondering what had happened to their leader. Blending back into the scenery, Talbot looked over the compound once more, trying to discern which entrance would serve best for his and Mendoza’s insertion. The stockpile had to be kept somewhere far from immediate access...

“...to get inside, and find the powder stockpile in the armory,” Fellwyre finished. “The extra munitions could prove useful, and I already have secondary targets standing by for destruction. Am I understood?” His griffons saluted and made their way into the armory, leaving him alone again. “Well, there’s our plan, then... we wait for them to report back. My soldiers are in the process of storming the building, so it’ll only be a matter of time before they find it.”

“Thanks,” Talbot said. “You might want to stand back a bit.”

Fellwyre looked up in confusion, doing as Talbot asked until he saw two pairs of boots appear on the edge of the roof, falling towards him. The two Ghosts landed with a thud, bending their knees to cushion the fall as the exoskeletons did the rest. Talbot looked eye-to-eye with Fellwyre for a moment until his form disappeared into blurry transparency, and the griffon smirked.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of that...” he said. “Can you keep up in that form?”

“We can walk,” Talbot said, nodding until he realized that Fellwyre couldn’t see him. “Just get us into that room and we’ll handle the rest.”

“Good. Follow me.”





“Sir! The stockpile—I’ve found it. Building on the northwest side of the armory, looks like a regular barracks, but the doors on the outside are fake and the walls are heavily reinforced. The only way to get into it is from an access door inside the armory, down below.”

Fellwyre looked aside in the darkened hall, clearing his throat as the soldier stood patiently, waiting for his answer. “Well done, soldier,” he congratulated him. “We’d best get to it as soon as possible. Have you encountered any resistance along the way?”

“Plenty, sir, but we managed to break through their defenses. Most of the armory guard have been eliminated, and the others have been sent running. We’ve taken a few casualties in the battle, though. Any organized counterattack will be sure to route us.”

“It’ll have to do,” Fellwyre said. “Take me to the stockpile: I need to make sure it’s the genuine article we’ve stumbled upon. Afterwards, we’ll return to the main floor to gather your brothers: we will be deploying elsewhere shortly, after I detonate their stockpile here.” He waved his claw in the air, beckoning the soldier to lead him to the stockpile, and followed him down dusty steps. The invisible stymie curving the air’s flow behind him let him know that the Ghosts were still following him.

“Sir?” the soldier asked, looking over his shoulder at Fellwyre. “We aren’t taking their stockpile?”

“Not this time. We can find more powder anywhere in the Empire, but for this instance, we will need to destroy the stockpile. The Imperial Guard cannot contain Red Talon, so we must draw his attention here to the armory, so that they can properly surround him,” he answered honestly. “Or so the plan now goes.”

“And what guarantee do we have that this new plan will work? That Red Talon will fall for it?”

“We have none. But our options are limited, Red Talon isn’t playing along, and it’ll only be a matter of time until reinforcements arrive. Short of blowing up the keep, which could take hours to do given its size and defenses, this is our next bet. What else have you found here?”

“Most of the squads have armed themselves with these ‘rifles’, as we have heard them called, and as much ammunition as they can carry. These new weapons are powerful, sir. We can make good use of them in our war against Strongbeak, but we still do not know where they originate from. Before we destroy the armory, though, there are a few objects of interest here that we couldn’t bring with us, perhaps you would like to see them first?”

Fellwyre slowed his pace, turning his head so his ear awaited an answer. “Go ahead,” came the hushed response.

“Let’s see these objects, then,” he said. The soldier nodded, leading them down another snaking stairwell and exiting to a simple room, no larger than a jail cell, adorned with two torches and what remained of a door. An adjoining hall led down to the rest of the floor on their right.

“It’s in there, sir,” the soldier said, walking inside. “I’m not sure what the significance behind these objects are, but I think General Scarclaw might like to see them.” He stood guard next to the room’s only adornment: a table with its contents laid out neatly on top.

Talbot accompanied him, clenching his jaw as he examined them himself. Mendoza was next, letting out a quiet curse as Fellwyre walked around the table.

The remains of a gray uniform were on the table, the complete dress with both the upper and lower body remaining mostly intact, but with cuts and burn marks at the edges of its sleeves. Its urban camouflage was unmistakable on both the uniform and the helmet that sat next to it. The EFEC patch was still starkly blue on the shoulder, and the nametag and flag denoted clearly who its original owner once was: G. Kessler, of Germany.

The helmet was strangely devoid of the electronic suites that would normally have been attached to its side. Talbot edged closer, taking note of removed visor and the caved-in portions of the inner helmet where the wires would have been.

“You found this here, by itself?” Fellwyre asked.

“Yes, sir, just this table. But, as you can see,” the soldier said, gesturing around the room at the marks of removed receptacles, “there used to be more here. I can only guess that this object in particular must have been a uniform of some kind. Maybe minotaur in origin, given its bipedal nature, though it seems too small, and doesn’t seem to match their style.”

“And it was just this uniform, no weapons or anything else with it?”

“Just the uniform, sir.”

“Hmm...” Fellwyre looked underneath the table, pulling out another bit of equipment: the combat webbing that would have gone along with the EFEC soldier’s uniform. He poked a talon through one of the holsters, noting that its shape copied the Ghosts’ equipment. “This might be important, yes... I’ll take these and report to the general with them later.”

Fellwyre and the soldier busied themselves with storing the evidence in their bags, leaving Talbot and Mendoza to huddle together and converse in whispers. “The guy’s dead,” Mendoza plainly stated.

“Highly probable,” Talbot agreed. “So the EFEC were definitely here before us. If they were the first to run tests with the portal technology, it’s possible that a miscalculation or malfunction may have brought them here.”

“A miscalculation... Harvey said that Maynard’s portal had never been tested.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright, then, soldier,” Fellwyre announced loudly, throwing the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s get to the stockpile. Time is of the essence.” He sauntered towards the exit as the soldier rushed to take the lead again, and the Ghosts skulked behind. They exited the room, heading straight into the hall on their left.

“Right this way, sir,” the soldier said. “We’re on what seems to be a secure containment floor, but as the plan said, the lockbreakers we brought were able to make short work of the doors here. Most of the rooms on this floor had the rifles and some of that new magic-infused powder that we saw back at Kruvem, so we found it odd that the first room barely had anything in it. I guess they must have taken all of the important stuff out before we attacked.”

The passageway grew increasingly cramped as they proceeded, no doubt intended as a security measure to prevent any wayward thieves from making an escape by having soldiers block their only route out. Blood and feathers lined the floor, making Talbot wonder where the bodies all went... until they passed a room with all the casualties of the floor piled high within, second to the stockpile room at the end.

“Here it is, sir, the stockpile,” the soldier said, stopping at the door and going no further. “Should I return to the main level and relocate the squads?”

“Do it,” Fellwyre said with a nod. When the soldier reached the end of the hall and walked around the corner, he turned around and pointed over his shoulder. “Captain Talbot, it’s all yours.”

“Thank you,” Talbot said as Fellwyre walked past him for the exit, and he into the room. He uncapped some of the barrels, tossing their grainy contents across the ground and coalescing them into a pile, following up by surrounding it with infused powder from purple-marked barrels. “Fuse, plant a C4 here.”

“Yes, sir,” he said happily. He pulled out the oblong package, priming the explosive before gently placing it on top of the pile and stepping back to observe his handiwork. “Look at that. It’s like a gunpowder cake with an explosive candle.” He looked up, staring down the lines of shelves with dozens of barrels, nearest ones marked conventional with the furthest half being infused. Hundreds more hung above as the shelves towered into the darkness, and scaffolding led their way to the storage’s main entrance at the faux barracks above. “Hope Red Talon’s ready for the fireworks show.”

“Heads up to the both of you,” Pastor interrupted. “I think Red Talon might have gotten some idea of what’s going on... maybe it’s all the smoke and fighting going on over there, I don’t know, but he’s heading for you right now.”

“He’s gunning for us?” Talbot asked.

“Well, the D-kit’s been a bit spotty with its audio pickup, but I think he may have said something to the effect of ‘puny humans’ when he noticed, so I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re stirring up the shit in his backyard. Either way, he’s heading down to you guys, so either get out or hunker down, because he’s bringing a whole lot of trouble with him.”

“Hunker down we shall, then,” Talbot said. “You ready to lay out the red carpet, Fuse?”

Mendoza returned with a thumbs-up, remote detonator in hand. “Showtime.”

> The Bigger They Are
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Are you ready?” Fellwyre asked. Talbot nodded from his hiding spot behind a water barrel, and turned around to check with Mendoza.

“We follow Fellwyre out,” Talbot said. “His soldiers will lead the way out of the compound, and will take us for half klick back towards the tower where Shell and Scope are, and then we’ll take the alleyways. Pop the charge at half klick or if you feel trouble’s about to hit us. The walls should deflect the shock, if they were built strong enough. What’s the range on your detonator?”

“The new wireless detonator should can probably get us maybe... a half a block out of the armory and it’ll still be good,” Mendoza said, gripping the remote detonator in his hands. Jittery spasms played with his fingers as the moment drew near, eagerly anticipating the distraction laid out for Red Talon. “DARPA’s been wanting better range on our equipment so we can match the Federation’s tech, so the det’s got some long-distance functionality replicated from their tech modded into it. Time to see if it works.”

Talbot reached over and tapped Fellwyre, who was leaning against the stone wall of the entrance watching his soldiers lined up and filing out in the courtyard, on the shoulder. Fellwyre looked to him with a cold eye, and nodded; he stepped forward, laying out the path the Ghosts would follow.

Soldiers evacuated the open space, providing cover for their comrades with a staggered fallback during their exit. Rifles fired into the air to deter the imperial air forces, allowing the remainder of the soldiers within the armory courtyard to finish their languid push with carts full of arms and ammunition out of the main gates. Fellwyre followed them, trailing behind the last cart, and with him, the Ghosts.

“Shell, where’s the target?” Talbot asked.

“Red’s bearing down on you like a beast possessed right now, though he made a detour earlier and stopped a sapper team en-route to the northwest gates,” Pastor replied. “But he’s still got a lot of ground to cover. You might make it back to where you ambushed the cloakers near the armory before he reaches you, but those carts are slowing down your advance by a huge factor.”

“Fuse, opinion on popping the explosives right now?” Talbot asked him.

Mendoza shook his head, looking over his shoulder as the last of Fellwyre’s overwatch leapt off of the walls, gliding over and taking up positions on the rooftops above the street. “Too close. With that much material below, I’m pretty sure the only thing we’re going to be leaving behind here is a crater.”

“Then we keep going,” Talbot said. He and Mendoza shadowed the procession, darting from cover to cover as Fellwyre’s unit began to suffer reprisals from the growing imperial presence. The skies clouded with formations, all swooping down one after another to harass the rooftop rifle-griffons, who took to the weapons with surprising efficiency; every charge was followed by a volley of shots, striking at the fliers’ departing angles and forcing them to fall back and regroup.

“Push!” Fellwyre ordered his soldiers, firing his rifle towards a griffon banking for him. The bullet pierced over the attacker’s right eye, breaking through his faceplate and ricocheting across the side of his head before puncturing out the back where leather protected his neck. Though alive, the damage was enough, and the soldier careened into the side of a building head-first and dropped into the street, unmoving.

Fellwyre’s griffons clamored for support as the street behind them thickened with enemies marching down. The rifle-griffons, mostly preoccupied with maintaining a watch on their aerial adversaries, spared only a moment’s time to attempt several volleys downwind; the bullets bounced harmlessly off the wall of shields as the imperial soldiers grew closer.

“Keep moving!” Fellwyre shouted. “We need these supplies northeast. Move it, go, go, go!”

He retraced his steps, pushing aside his subordinates on the powder barrel wagon as he retrieved one and smashed in its knob. A small trail of the powder began to leak out, piling at his claws as he began to lace the width of the street with the substance, tossing idle debris of fallen timber and other flammables as fuel to spark a pyre that would block the enemy advance.

Talbot and Mendoza snuck past the grainy black line, taking refuge in a standing doorway as Talbot reevaluated the situation. The D-kit was pointed in their direction, drawing dozens of signatures on their crosscom and producing a visual nightmare; he killed off all extraneous targets beyond fifty meters and forced the diamond icons to minimize by ninety five percent, finally clearing his visor of informational static.

Fellwyre had support, as soldiers grabbed any extra fuel they could and piled it onto the pyre, already lit as they fell back. The barrier was strong, and burnt hot; the flames barely licked the second stories of the buildings they were built next to, but the height wasn’t the concern, merely that the street remained choked with burning objects. Heavy barricades and furniture drawn from empty lots and destroyed buildings made up the bulk that would prevent the phalanx’s crossing.

“Red’s in the skies now,” Pastor said. “He’s swinging around, coming in alone from southwest of the armory and about to make a landing in the courtyard, with the rest of the fighting still to catch up behind him. Watch yourselves.”

“Copy that, Shell.” Talbot remained on watch, but raised a thumbs-up towards Mendoza. “Light her up, Fuse.”

“Lighting her up,” Mendoza cheered in a low singsong tone. He clicked the detonator and waited tensely, pausing for a tense minute—staring out towards the crenellations of the armory only just down the hill—before giving a light chuckle as the ground began to rumble. “Merry Christmas to me, baby.”

They braced in the doorway, hugging against the wall as the tremors reached full bloom. From his position, Talbot peered out of the corner to see those in the air disoriented by the blast, formations running slack and spiraling into disorder, while the soldiers on the ground were shaken, breaking their formation as the shields bounced off each other and onto the ground. Fellwyre’s griffons held steadfast, with those on the carts bracing themselves and their transports for dear life and the rifle-griffons crouching low to avoid being thrown off and to remain ready for an immediate takeoff should their buildings collapse.

A massive plume of dust rose out of the ground in the distance as the armory imploded on itself. Talbot, via the D-kit, tracked a shape being caught in the shockwave and falling into the yawning crater below. He looked to Mendoza, who returned a gleeful thumbs-up back to him.

“Red just had himself a little tumble,” Pastor confirmed with a sneer. “Looks like his parade just caught up with him, so you better haul ass.”

“He’s within range,” Raymond said. “The street that you guys are heading up is where he’s going to run towards. I have a clear shot at the edge of the crater from here. I’m just hoping he’s still shell-shocked when I see his face.”

Fellwyre took up the slack, shouting over the din for his soldiers to double-time it up the hill; the armor column had taken casualties, but were only momentarily distracted. Even as he spoke, they made detours to circle around through smaller streets and alleyways. The rifle-griffons did not pursue, continuing to shadow the convoy rather than skirmish with the opposition.

The carts reached the apex of the hill they climbed, instantly shifting to a sprint as they continued northeast. Loyalist forces gathered at the courtyard for the final push towards the keep, with several platoons already rendezvousing, grabbing rifles to supplement their swords and spears.

When Fellwyre stepped aside, hanging low behind the parked carts and breaking the line of sight with his soldiers, Talbot stepped in. “What’s the current situation?” he asked. The courtyard was a flurry of activity, and shots were already being fired at their hastily-erected perimeter. The imperial forces drew close, thundering forward with their armaments with renewed determination.

“Bloodfury and the rest of the Imperial Guard are off dealing with Strongbeak’s forces,” Fellwyre whispered, staring off towards the distance at the dust being blown away in the distance. “Red Talon’s reinforcements will be here soon. And what soldiers we had outside the walls to support our advance will soon be here with us. They need to be, if they wish to survive.”

“And the wall of steel we just ran into down the street?”

“I have no doubt that they’re Red Talon’s regulars. Not as well-trained as Strongbeak’s elites, obviously, else this battle would have already gone south. He’s the General of the Infantry for a reason: he utilizes the soldier to great effect, combining air and ground cohorts to launch pincer attacks that leave the enemy with nowhere to run.”

“I’d say being stuck in his fortress already does that for him.” Talbot looked to his crosscom, following Pastor’s ping: marked red against yellow, the diamond sharply ascended out of the pit of death and jetted above, parallel to the advancing armor column. “Well, it looks like Red Talon is still alive.”

“Pissed off... and flying in a straight line directly at us… and me,” Raymond noted. “Bad idea.” An ear-splitting crack sounded off in the tower, roaring loudly as if from the skies themselves.

Red Talon fumbled with his flight, his growing form revealed to be clutching the left side of his shoulder; his flesh was open and torn from the shot, bleeding profusely as he raised his head and cried in anger. Bits of armor still fell off of his body, torn apart by the force of the explosion and his resulting impact, falling to the earth and onto the soldiers beneath him.

“I know that weapon! Accursed worms, you will not—” Red Talon was cut off as the loyalist forces interrupted his tirade with fire of their own. He was forced to break off, sheathing his greatsword and swinging around, riding up the left flank of his army’s advance—loudly bemoaning his wound the whole way—and regrouping behind his aerial forces’ defensive formations.

“Damn. I almost had him there.”

“Good shot,” Talbot said, chuckling under his breath as Mendoza nodded approvingly behind him. “Not exactly a kill shot, but it’s good enough. He’ll be feeling that one for a while, and hopefully it’s softened him up enough for another.”

“He won’t be so quick to jump at us now,” Pastor said. “But we might not get another shot at him for the rest of the battle. Unless Scope is up to par with sniping a strafing target moving in the air...”

“No way in hell that’s going to happen,” Raymond replied. “The last time I fired while moving and in the air was on a helicopter outside of Berlin. And that was a lucky shot on an extraction, and the guy was on the building across from our chopper, no more than twenty meters.”

“A fine shot from Scope,” Fellwyre noted. “Red Talon’s defeat may just be within our grasp.”

“Sir! We got incoming!” a soldier called from the wall above him.

“Who is it?”

“Imperial Guard, sir,” the soldier replied. He raised his faceplate, squinting hard for several moments until he looked back down. “They’re all there. And Sergeant Bloodfury is leading them.”

“Ah, excellent,” Fellwyre said. The Imperial Guard, numbering a paltry handful from Bloodfury’s group, stormed into the courtyard, immediately scattering into their assigned units and moving to reinforce the loyalists. Bloodfury himself sought out Fellwyre, eventually finding him behind the carts at the directions of Leret.

The two appeared from around the corner of the cart, gathering close to Fellwyre. “Have you seen the Ghosts?” Bloodfury asked.

“They’re here,” Fellwyre replied quietly. “Right next to us.”

“Good,” he said, panting as he took off his helmet. His head slackened and he took in great breaths, unaware of the Ghost’s position, but continued, “That was a damn fine shot there, tore right through like it was nothing, and might have taken his left shoulder out of commission. You were right, Captain: the damage dealt certainly was grievous.”

“It’s fortunate that we were even able to land a shot at all,” Talbot replied. “The armory trap worked as intended. How big a hole did we leave in the ground?”

“Massive,” Leret said. “There will need to be a lot of construction to restore the armory to its original state, and a lot of earth to move. The entire surrounding area is now entirely unrecognizable, and several companies of Red Talon’s air infantry were taken down with him, though they were not as lucky as he was.”

“Less for us to deal with,” Mendoza muttered.

“Then we must do this now,” Fellwyre said. “Do you have a plan?”

“Aside from killing him, no,” Talbot replied. He looked at Bloodfury. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes, and it also involves killing him.” He snorted and jabbed a talon over his shoulder. “Our plan, seeing as how we are quickly running out of options here, is to fortify our position here in front of the tower. I will send soldiers with these new rifles up to man the ramparts, and the rest of us will stay down here to engage Red Talon’s soldiers.”

“One column, shield regulars,” Leret noted. “The rest must be out at the front lines. Thank the ancestors for that. Between all the Imperial Guard, we should be able to handle them easily.”

“And myself, Leret, and the rest of our core unit will direct Red Talon’s flow of battle,” Bloodfury continued. “As the most experienced of the loyalists here, he will seek to kill us first, as is his need to seek out worthy opponents. We can use this to our advantage.”

“He clearly means to kill us,” Talbot said. “Unless that’s what you had in mind the whole time...”

“Would be nice to try, but you’re far too valuable to our war effort to stop. Even though we may succeed in controlling the flow and direction of our battle with Red Talon, he will still adhere to the rules of griffon combat. If we engage in number, so does he. He will not be fighting us alone, and that is where our problems come in. Alone, we can take him. With his soldiers, we cannot.”

“I can assign two squads with rifles on the walls above the gates,” Fellwyre offered.

Bloodfury shook his head. “No, no, that won’t work. These weapons are too new, and we can’t risk having an accident in combat against Red Talon.” His eyes flicked to Talbot. “Which is where you and your friend Fuse will come in, and perhaps the other Ghosts, wherever they may be.”

“You want us to pick off his soldiers?” Talbot asked.

“That I do,” Bloodfury said with a slow nod. “You are trained with your weapons, and you have proven that they will work against any normal imperial soldier. Keep your eyes trained and keep the extra numbers off our backs.”

“We can’t risk blowing our cover here,” Mendoza warned.

“A good point, but it’s a risk I am willing to take. Scarclaw would approve: in this situation, we must utilize everything we have to win this battle, and that means putting you Ghosts to a task that fits your skills. Now, hurry. We must get into position.”

“Wait, hold on,” Talbot said. The three griffons turned to look curiously at him. “We ran into something else in the tower. Griffon soldiers, armed with rifles just like the rest of the imperial forces stationed here, but they were wearing light armor with invisibility capabilities exactly like ours.”

“What?” Fellwyre asked in quiet shock. “This is worrying news. Do you think it might—?”

“Be related to the clues we found underneath the armory?” Talbot ended. “Too early to guess at this point, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. It’s just too coincidental. We have to stay on the lookout for any more of them... Fuse and I will deploy some monitoring equipment, just to be safe. I’ll get Scope to watch the battlefield for any more of them.”

“Hold on,” Bloodfury interrupted. “You mean there are griffons running around that can do exactly what the Ghosts can do?”

“It’s a long story, which I’ll be happy to explain to you later, Bloodfury. See to it that you do, Captain,” Fellwyre said. He looked between Bloodfury and Talbot, retrieving a fresh rifle from the cart next to him and handing two to the two Imperial Guards before arming himself with a new one. “And may the ancestors protect us all.”





The street turned into a warzone within itself. With the shield regulars as the mainstay of the offensive, Red Talon’s forces gathered around the phalanx in support: on the roofs, in the alleys, and in the skies. The General of the Infantry knew his prey had nowhere to run, and had no intention of letting the enemy gain the satisfaction of splintering his forces and utilizing guerilla tactics. The loyalists would have to deal with the full strength of his assault head-on.

Talbot crouched behind a cracked stone wall above the tower’s gates, staring towards the line of gleaming steel approaching the loyalist barricade. Diamonds blipped into existence, one after another as if an endless tide, as units continued to consolidate on Red Talon’s position from all throughout the fortress. “Shell, do you see the target?”

“Negative. Too many in the air, all moving about. D-kit lost his position when he retreated into his soldiers.”

“Copy.” Mendoza was beside him, peering down the sights of his MR8 towards the horizon. “Fuse, how many flashbangs do you have on you?”

“Just two here. I think we all brought only two. Didn’t think we’d need more than that between all of us when we went after Maynard,” Mendoza replied, gently tapping the grenades hanging off the side of his belt. “Frags might work. Red’s not exactly a juggernaut covered in steel anymore.”

“Let Scope worry about him. We can’t risk having friendlies near the frag when it goes off.” He looked down to the center of the courtyard; Bloodfury and rest of the Imperial Guard remained at attention with their rifles in claws, their wings spread in anticipation. All of their heads pointed above, watching as imperial formations in the sky began to tighten their formations for the imminent descent.

“There!” Bloodfury pointed into the sky. “I see him!”

“Sir, I found him,” Pastor followed. The leader of the first five-griffon unit in the sky was marked red, and Talbot could make out Red Talon’s monstrous size through the icon, with a tint of white where his wound for a hasty patch-up; he was wielding his greatsword with one claw, though he seemed no worse for wear with it. “He’s leading the first charge. They’re descending now, banking hard to dodge the rifles. Watch yourself.”

Dodging the rifles was least of the general’s concerns; three more units entered the fray before he dove, leading the charge and acting as a shield; their armor suffered the damage he could not. The wedge darted above the armor column, scattering as they reached the courtyard. The rifle-griffons at the periphery posts beyond the perimeter fired their volleys, sounding off their rows before switching to swords and engaging the closing attackers on the rooftops.

The two units at the side of the wedge had broken off, leaving only two to fall upon the loyalist battlements: the first unit, which glided above the barricades only to fall headfirst into the Imperial Guard leaping towards them. A pair narrowly dodged the onslaught, only to be met with bullets. The Guard, in tandem, speedily reorganized before backing off, giving Red Talon’s approach a wide berth.

But the general’s entrance never came; his unit spread their wings for a hard brake, and broke off their dive, landing neatly on a rooftop with him looking down at the Guard and the rest of his squad hopping down to fight. Red Talon sneered at them, opening his beak to speak when another crack echoed above. The head of the soldier passing in front of him exploded with a shower of red mist, tossing the mangled remnant of his helmet aside with ease.

“Fuck,” Raymond cursed. “That makes twice now.”

Red Talon dodged aside, breaking away from the combat and jumping across the rooftops to his right; he steadily circled around, muscling his way past the loyalist rifle groups on the rooftops, tearing through them as he made for the gatehouse walls. Raymond’s next shot went wide, unable to keep steady with his erratic movements and usage of the buildings’ features to obstruct his line of sight.

“Sir, he’s getting too close. We need to—”

“I know,” Talbot replied. He bent down, cradling his MR8 on his legs as he checked his revolver, ensuring that the cylinders were all filled. Beside him, Mendoza fired controlled bursts, muted gasps that cut down the remainder of the aerial griffons as they began to pour into the courtyard.

“What’s the call?” Mendoza asked, pausing only to reload. “That diamond’s getting bigger…”

“This is taking too long,” Talbot muttered. “And he’s not staying still.” He leveraged his head against the side of the stone outlook, watching as Bloodfury directed Leret to hold the line and ordered his squad to redirect on an intercept vector to Red Talon. The sergeant sheathed his sword, breaking into a hurried sprint on all fours like a beast of speed as his subordinates tracked in behind him. His wings spread and he lifted into the air, maintaining his moment of aerial fluidity until he drew his weapon in preparation of the coming clash.

Red Talon brought his blade down to finish off a bloodied loyalist isolated from his squad as another blade entered the picture. The strike went askew as Bloodfury cried out with strained effort; a shrill groan echoed between the grinding blades as they slammed into the ground, and Red Talon remained fixated on the spectacle, flustered by the parry. Bloodfury, still off the ground with his wings spread, spared no time as he spun into his next strike; a booted shin struck the hapless general across the face.

The impact did little to break the balance of the general, however. With an indignant growl, Red Talon retaliated a clumsy fling of his left claw—hampered by his shoulder injury—with the right still gripped tightly on the handle of his sword and raising it high; Bloodfury ducked, dodging the strike and bringing his sword above his head and fully taking the weight of the falling blade. The soldier huddling next to the battle determinedly drew his knife, diving between Red Talon’s exposed legs and striking both with neat slices, before rolling off the edge of the rooftops to relative safety.

“Gah!” Red Talon shouted, looking aside to see the tips of the feathers disappear over the edge. “As expected of the crown’s lapdogs… always resorting to such trickery.” He distanced himself from Bloodfury, hopping over to the next roof: dangerously close to where Talbot and Mendoza were, and within their earshot.

“You shame our ancestors by what you have done, you and all your ilk,” Bloodfury replied. He, too, remained at length, carefully gauging the general’s posture as he was judged in kind. “You damn our empire to the pains of war and for what? Illusions of grandeur gained from spilling the blood of your kin? Of our allies? You usurp the throne of the true ruler through deceit and subterfuge, yet you have the gall to chastise us for striking from the shadows?” He chuckled. “Certainly a case of the pot calling the kettle black…”

They danced around each other; Red Talon to avoid being struck by a wayward bullet from beyond his reach, and Bloodfury to avoid letting the general gain the jump on him. Talbot watched the two circle each other while mincing words, and readied his MR8. The barrel of the MR8 hovered in his vision as he singled out the unprotected joints at the base of Red Talon’s shoulders.

“Need to draw him out further, sir, I can’t get to him from this angle,” Raymond said. “Unless you’d like me to attempt a vertical shot…”

“I think Bloodfury knows,” Talbot said. Bloodfury constantly stood poised with a sideways stare, holding his body perpendicular to Red Talon, attention directed towards his quarry but always remaining mindful of his route of escape. “He’s just entertaining the general long enough to get him hot on his heels. Hopefully.”

“D-kit’s on automatic acquisition,” Pastor said. “Target will remain in view at all times. Let’s just hope Red Talon doesn’t push into somewhere we can’t see.”

Bloodfury’s squad stood several rooftops away, crouched with their rifles trained and back-to-back with another loyalist rifle squad as they watched. Talbot ascertained the situation for the rest of the battle: a fire had been lit at the primary barricade stemming the approach of the shielded soldiers, most of the rifle-griffons stationed near the front were busy fighting, and Leret was in the midst of battle with imperial soldiers endlessly being reinforced.

Mendoza broke the silence. “I honestly thought my aim was worse than I’m doing right now, but unless we’re getting bullets supplied to us direct from planet Earth, I am burning through my mags fast.”

“CAS lighting that street up would be nice,” Pastor said.

“I wish,” Mendoza agreed. Talbot tapped him on the shoulder and swapped a full magazine for one of his emptied, giving a thankful nod.

“Shell, Scope, can you relocate to a lower balcony?” Talbot asked.

“Can do, but it’ll take time.”

“Do it.”

“On it. Scope, pack up shop, we’re moving downstairs. D-kit’s going to offline while we make the move, so the crosscom will be blind for a bit.”

“We have the sensors, no worries.” All the signatures went dark as the D-kit shut off, and Talbot activated his sensor grenade; the only signatures he could track were Bloodfury and Red Talon nearby, along with the sea of signatures on the ground. “Just the important stuff. Good enough.”

He snuck closer to the fight, leaving Mendoza behind to better observe Bloodfury’s condition. Although the beginning blow had given Bloodfury the advantage, it was only temporary: his attempts at feinting retreat had failed, and Red Talon’s greater strength and experience made it cumbersome to fight against him.

Talbot watched the general’s gestures, watching as the wings shifted with the direction he was about to move in. Griffons held a huge reliance on their wings, and it was no surprise to him that most of the mobility advantage given to them on the battlefield was only through their flight. With them, Red Talon could circle around any enemy with ease, able to shift to new flanks with only a simple action.

With Red Talon’s back to him, he locked the sights of his MR8 onto the joints on his back and fired. But the general shifted, causing the bullet to poke through his primaries, and the griffon instantly recoiled with a scream of pain, hobbling away to a nearby chimney as his head turned frantically, searching for his assailant. Bloodfury visibly relaxed, though he still held his sword before him at guard.

“Close shot,” Mendoza said.

“Seems to be a recurring habit with killing this guy,” Talbot said with no hidden annoyance.

“You will pay for that, human...” Red Talon said, hissing as knelt down and twisting his neck to gauge the damage, all the while manically staring down Bloodfury, who steadily closed in. With alacrity, Red Talon swung his blade as soon as he was within reach. Bloodfury dodged the wide swing, bringing his own blade towards Red Talon from the opposite direction; his blade glanced off of Red Talon’s, and he recoiled on instinct.

Red Talon dove forth, using the support of his sword as a springboard to launch himself at Bloodfury. He moved with blinding speed, closing the distance between them and struck Bloodfury in the face with a headbutt, striking Bloodfury hard enough that there was a dull crunch as the plate absorbed the hit and he was knocked back, if only a few inches, for that instance of a moment.

“Down five floors, moving to set up,” Pastor notified Talbot. Red Talon broke away from the rooftop, running across and vaulted across the obstructed street between the building and the walls that Talbot and Mendoza watched from. He grunted in pain as his wings spread open, breaking his glide at the first sign of safety and unceremoniously rolled into the landing.

“Aw, shit…” Mendoza said, having paused firing long enough for his camouflage to meld his form with the wall. Talbot sat still, watching as Red Talon moved in their direction, passing by with nary a clue and making his way for the tower.

“Shit indeed…” Talbot muttered. He risked a peek back out to the rooftops; Bloodfury was there, recovering from the blunt force and edging his way painfully forward to try to intercept Red Talon. He waved his squad forward, only for them to be caught in another fight as more imperial soldiers intercepted their advance from above. “Shell, you’ve got company.”

“Oh, yeah, I see him,” Pastor said. “Just our luck…”

“He’s heading inside?” Raymond pointed out. “Between us both, focus fire should bring him down easy.”

“No, he’s not headed inside…” Talbot clenched his jaw as shimmering forms appeared alongside Red Talon, and a team of cloakers revealed themselves, carrying medical aid and rifles with them. Several fanned out, rendering themselves invisible again as another pair set to work on the wound on the griffon’s back.

“Hold up, getting that D-kit set up for you as quickly as I can manage,” Pastor hurriedly said.

“Should we engage?” Mendoza whispered.

“Hold fire.” From the side of his vision, the space was barren save for the barrels and other sparse objects decorating the general’s side of the walls. On theirs, only the stony barriers themselves had served as their means of hiding, and the cloakers drew closer to them. The experience of the griffons to pick out cloaked forms was beyond concrete knowledge, and the shadow casted by the angle of the sun darkened the outline of the Ghosts from beyond the notice of the naked eye. “Shell, no pressure here…”

“It’s up.” A group of diamonds appeared, all closer to him than he had originally assumed, with their profiles completely outlined by the D-kit.

And they were all looking up at the balcony that Pastor and Raymond were at. Red Talon’s bodyguards were all staring towards the tower, and the general himself was in heated discussion with his medics as he stood, back solidly bandaged.

“Shell, your cover is blown,” Talbot said. “Get the hell out of there.”

“Damn, already?” He sighed. “Scope, move the sniper rifle off the railing, and grab your MR8. If they already know we’re here, they’re not going to just let us walk out. So how about we let them get to us, and then we hit them from two flanks?”

“All of you, get up there and root them out,” Red Talon said calmly. “But bring them to me alive. I want to deal with them myself. If you can find the others, bring them to me, too. Strongbeak will want to have them interrogated.”

The soldiers all offered their acknowledgement and reared onto their hind legs to take off, only for a report of rifle fire to break their orders. Bloodfury and his squad reappeared over the walls guns firing, arcing over Talbot and charging straight for Red Talon. They clashed: Bloodfury tumbled straight into a cloaker, not even breaking his stride in surprise as he punched the soldier’s materializing form in the face and continued for the general.

Bloodfury started off with a stabbing thrust, expecting the parry from Red Talon and twirled aside, transitioning into a reverse stab towards the bandaged torso; he missed as his sword struck air and the general had rotated his position with him. He narrowly dodged an elbow strike and struck a blow, but only just: the tip of his blade nicked the side of Red Talon’s neck, carving off tufts of feather and drawing blood.

Talbot caught sight of Red Talon’s tail coiling, the limber appendage raising itself high into the air when he caught sight of it: a dagger, pulled from a sheath stowed away in a rear boot, was about to lash out at the unaware Bloodfury’s unprotected side, raised clearly but  unnoticed in the chaos around them. Talbot raised his MR8, pointing in the general direction of the two and fired, grazing the skin of the prehensile appendage as several bullets hit the base of his tail.

The dagger dropped to the ground with a clang, and Red Talon immediately glowered at Talbot as he audibly restrained his scream. He kicked Bloodfury aside, and made a path towards the Ghost with great agility, using the others in combat to break Talbot’s inconsistent sputters with his rifle, eventually barreling down straight on him.

Bullets stopped flowing from his barrel when Talbot dodged aside at the last moment, but felt a hard grip catching his left shoulder with a lance of pain. He felt himself being lifted into the air and felt his other arm slam against the stone wall as Red Talon lifted him, causing him to drop his MR8 to the ground and watch helplessly as he was pulled farther from the battle.

Mendoza’s rounds whizzed dangerously by his body. Bloodfury’s squad was victorious in combat against the enemy, but were immediately being rallied again as they followed in pursuit, only to be cut off as the enemy swarmed down upon them. His headset was exploding with the incoherent overlaps of panic and indecision from the rest of his team.

“Now, human…” Red Talon shouted into the air, his voice laced with satisfaction. His wings flapped erratically as he brought them at a low altitude over the rooftops, reaching the rim of the great crater. “Strongbeak will want to speak to you… personally.”

Talbot reached with his right hand towards the knife sheath on his armor, buried beneath the leathery skin of Red Talon’s claw embedded into his left shoulder, and pulled it free. “Tell him we’ll have to do it some other time,” he replied, and drove the blade into the tendons on the back of Red Talon’s arm. A scream sounded with a mixture of shock and pain, and the claw released its grasp on Talbot.

The lone man tumbled forth through the air, landing hard on the cobblestone street and rolled over the edge into the great emptiness below.





A mirage was the first thing that greeted Talbot’s eyes. He sharply gasped, a combination of the uncomfortable tightness of his balaclava and his dry mouth pulling his mind back to the fore of consciousness. He shifted his hand, and the mirage moved, and he sat himself upright to feel a great ache wash over his body.

“Go in—him—not enough—”

“Compromised—numbers—Talon is goin—target.”

“Talon to Anvil, does anyone copy?” Talbot said quietly. He coughed hoarsely and attempted to clear his daze with a shake of his head. “Is anyone out there?”

“Holy shit, he’s alive—sir? Where—Bloodfury at?” The voice was buried beneath static, but the voice was there. “Where—sir?”

“The crater.” He looked up, staring at a tower of rubble slanted at an incline towards the bottom of the crater, with the skies above painting the area with an unholy red glow. “If I didn’t know better, I could swear that I’m standing right at the gates of hell...”

He planted a solid arm onto the ground, moving his hand for better leverage when he felt something solid brush against his glove. Switching vision modes on his visor, he saw his knife, fully intact, with a thin sliver of blood on its blade. He returned the weapon to its sheath, instinctively reaching for an MR8 that wasn’t there, and groaned in frustration. Next to him sat his sensor grenade, buried halfway underneath a pile of rocks, unharmed but deactivated. He grabbed the device and strapped it onto his belt when a hiss of static prefaced Mendoza’s response.

“Need pickup?” The comm was clearer than it was before, and though the graininess persisted, Mendoza’s tone was easy to discern from its pitch compared to the rest of the team. The question was brief enough to avoid the recurring drops of connection breaks.

“Negative. Red Talon is still nearby,” Talbot said. He pulled out his revolver, and checked over his sensor grenades: the tumble was rough, but the equipment was all still intact. The ability of the gear to withstand rugged situations paid off in spades in this situation. The last thing he needed was to go on a scavenger hunt for his lost belongings. “Only got my knife and revolver. It doesn’t look like I can make my way back up without some help.”

“Copy. We’re trying to move to your position now. Shell has your MR8, by the way.” The voice came in strong now; Mendoza must have followed his track. Talbot dug into his field medical kit and diagnosed the damage done to his shoulder: the front was fine, and the focused shoulder armoring on the back stemmed the piercing of the talon into his body, reducing the wound to a painful cut, but not life-threatening.

He slapped on a quick-application bandage and covered the wound, and flexed his left arm. The pain bit sharply, but his reach with the limb was unharmed. “How long was I out?”

“Not sure. Maybe ten or twenty minutes?”

“Not too long. That’s good, but be—” He attempted to stand, only to be alarmed at the sound of thundering steps closing in on him. He whirled around just in time to see Red Talon’s furious eyes slam straight into face before he was laying on the ground again. A claw gripped around his neck and pinned him to the ground, fully enclosed around his shoulders and the knife sheath as his vision unblurred.

“You are more trouble than you are worth,” Red Talon said, sneering at him. “Perhaps you would be better off sent to Strongbeak as a corpse than a prisoner.” He raised his other claw, balling it into a fist as Talbot’s right hand snapped to his hip, the handle of his revolver grinding against the dirt of the ground as he pulled it from its holster.

The swing proved faster than the draw. Before Talbot pulled his revolver free of its holster, Red Talon’s fist came swinging down at him; he turned his head away in a futile gesture to avoid the pain… except the awaited strike never came. Instead, a loud crash, like glass shattering, sounded off, piercing in its tone as it seemed to tear asunder everything in his vision in a wave of blinding white.

Talbot rolled free as the burden on his body lightened, and he struggled to his feet as he aimed down his sights: first at the space before him, then into the air when he caught sight of Red Talon’s massive form spinning wildly away from him like a ragdoll. A minor vibration caught his attention, and he looked down to his chest to see that the medallions he’d received earlier were glowing. The glow disappeared as one began to chip.

“Well… I’ll be damned. It works,” he said.

“What happened down there? I heard some angry talking and thought your goose was cooked…” Mendoza said.

“The medallions, Fuse. They work. Just saved my damn life.”

“Oh… well, that’s great to know. Thought these things were just for looks, maybe good luck charms or something.”

“Yeah, well, they just stopped my head from being pulverized by a gigantic fist.” Talbot stood, brushing the dust off of himself and paused to let his cloak kick in. A flicker of red and a warning sign on his suit’s diagnostics coincided with his camouflage’s activation and subsequent failure. “And it looks like the energy that comes out of these things when the shields kick into gear knocks our camo out of commission. Great.”

“So… no camo, but you’ve got shields. Sounds like you’re going to need them.”

“I’m not too keen on relying on ancient jewelry to keep me alive. One of my medallions just got chipped. Might have something to do with deflecting that death blow, so they’re not permanent.” His exoskeleton bent to his stretching, arcing with his knees, and he rekeyed the sensor grenade to active. He hefted his revolver with two hands, stepping forward to navigate through the maze of ruin. “His wings are clipped, though… at least I have that going for me.”

“He probably knows that, too. Shit, I got these assholes all around me. Going silent. And, boss… don’t get killed.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Only the dead fight fair, boss. Watch your back.” Mendoza went silent, and Talbot trailed through the darkness alone… and wondering why the sensor wasn’t picking up any signatures in his immediate vicinity. It seemed highly unlikely that the general had taken to retreating, and doing so without giving himself away to Talbot’s range advantage would have been implausible.

But if he was, the tall incline that he had fallen down would be the surest route to the surface, and so he made his way there to hopefully find the general already making his way up. The griffon hadn’t been around to witness the shield’s effects on his cloak… perhaps that would work in his favor.

Talbot caught the faint sound of shuffling in the distance, too loud and sharp to be the sound crumbling rock around him. It was clear, close, but the sensor grenade picked up nothing within the vicinity. He creeped through the shadows, taking care to check all his angles as he moved from cover to cover. The tables could have turned, and Red Talon might still have a trick that he’d hidden up until now.

There was the possibility that he had camouflage as well, adapted from the variant that his soldiers used, and might even be a more advanced version. One that could mask the signature of the wearer from his sensors. Maybe the Federation soldiers had brought sensor grenades to Equestria, and the griffon researchers found a way to counteract it with magic. That was an answer he needed to know: how long had they been here for?

A beep quashed his theory as a single diamond formed on his HUD, and he looked left to see Red Talon moving parallel to his path; surprisingly silent on his claws, the distant form briefly appeared between two piles of rubble. Their paths, left unaltered, would intersect at the stairway that would lead to their salvation.

He gave chase, intent on reaching the destination before his target did. The exoskeleton took the brunt of his steps, lightening the weight of his equipment and allowing him to sprint unabated. Through the whole duration, he watched Red Talon vigilantly, somewhere along the line realizing that the griffon was reciprocating in kind; he slid to a halt on his back as he narrowly avoided a rock flung in his direction the size of his head.

Talbot was shortly back on his feet, straying off his path to pursue the general on his. Realizing that combat was not an option, that there was no direct combat to be had—yet—Talbot held off on firing his revolver, saving his ammunition for when he could entrap Red Talon in an ideal spot. There wasn’t much he could do beyond avoiding the rocks thrown in the griffon’s wake.

The ground rumbled again, and Talbot looked up to see enormous chunks of the stairway falling off, large stones that crashed their way to the ground. He skidded to a halt behind another pile, bracing himself as a cloud of dust enveloped the whole area. His visor pinged and he saw the diamond appear the edge of his vision, denoting that his attacker was appearing from behind him.

He unconsciously stepped back as he saw a thin sliver, a black line tearing through the dust, swing at him from nowhere. The blade slammed into the collected rock with an ear-piercing ping, and Red Talon’s form appeared holding its handle.

“Trinkets won’t save you here,” Red Talon said. The blade was pulled free, and jabbed in his direction, and again Talbot barely dodged, falling to the floor as Red Talon closed in on him. Talbot struggled to get on his feet, giving a reaching claw a hard kick as he rolled off to the side. Another shatter and a cry of pain was heard; the medallion must have had offensive capabilities, as well, an amplification of physical force that could be used to his advantage.

Managing a clumsy half-crouch, Talbot aimed the revolver for Red Talon only for the griffon to grab its barrel and toss it out of its hands. The weapon went flying off into the darkness, though it wasn't a total loss: the sensor grenade marked the outline of the revolver as it slid away, coming to a halt to at a fair distance behind Red Talon.

Staying low, Talbot balanced himself, eyeing Red Talon to watch for his next move, but to his surprise, the griffon sheathed his sword… and then disengaged, turning around and running to where the revolver sat. Talbot gritted his teeth and sprinted after him.

It was for naught; Red Talon dived for the revolver, flubbing with it in his massive claw until he held it tight with both and turned around, talon tucked into the trigger guard, standing awkwardly on two legs. Talbot, without pausing, turned right and kept his head low as the first shot from Red Talon went wide, barely catching the coattail of his armor.

Five.

No gun. A knife. Some grenades—were those worth using? Maybe. But not yet. With the knife in hand, Talbot slowly watched the diamond close in, warily and at distance, maintaining a wide angle as he rounded the corner. Red Talon had a good view of both sides of his cover, meaning that any direction that Talbot took would put him in his sights.

He peeked his head around the pillar that obscured him. Red Talon fired off another shot.

Four.

It appeared that Red Talon was not familiar with revolvers, nor the fact that they only chambered six rounds, else he would have conserved what bullets he had. Talbot took the gamble, heading out the other way and flinched as a white flash blinded him. The sound of the crushed bullet clinging against the ground was heard, and he slinked back into cover before Red Talon could fire again.

Three.

So the shield worked against bullets, as well as physical strikes, and Red Talon—as far as Talbot was concerned—was still not aware that the shield negated his ability to cloak. Talbot hefted a rock, gripping it tight in his left hand as he stepped back and let it loose. Red Talon took the bait, immediately shifting his aim right, following the patter of the rock as the noise traveled through the dead air.

Only when the sound of steel-soled boots reached his ears did he think to turn back; he brought the revolver back left, only for Talbot to sidestep to the right. The human delivered a solid punch to his left side, knocking the breath out of him with the shield’s force as Talbot caught the griffon’s single claw—the one gripping the revolver as the other supported him as he rotated—stopping the barrel short of his head, driving his knife straight into the arm as the bullet exited into empty space.

Two.

The flesh of the griffon’s arm, despite its mass, was soft, torn through the blade with relative ease. Talbot twisted, drawing the blade parallel to Red Talon’s arm, and sliced down to his wrist. Blood dripped to the floor with the revolver as Red Talon screamed; Talbot cut the revelation of pain short with another jab to the side, distancing the two as he leaned down to grab the revolver, eyes glued on his target as he brought the revolver to his eye.

He fired.

One.

The round went straight into Red Talon’s chest, the force of the injury causing him to flinch backwards as he stumbled. Talbot gave no quarter, following up the shot with a straight blitz to deliver another shield blow to his head, jumping into the air and delivering punch straight across his cheek. The griffon was knocked to the floor, his form wheezing with strained gasps. His bloodied face looked up to Talbot as he approached.

“Finish it, human,” he coughed out.

Talbot raised his revolver as he approached, firing off a clean round into the griffon’s head and watched the liquid matter splat out across the ground.

Zero.

Talbot snorted as he collected the spent cartridges into his hand, stuffing them away into his pouch as he palmed seven: six fresh, one to double-tap the general to ensure that he stayed dead. The process was cathartic, or as much as it could be as Talbot fired off the second round into the griffon’s head and watched it flop as the bullet tore through it.

One bullet out, six new ones in. Talbot sheathed his knife, and began to holster his revolver, sighing to himself as he looked up, seeing the dust clear out. His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself stopping his hand.

A line of griffons, the late general’s soldiers, all stood in a line, gawking at him. Their rifles remained at neutral stance, pointed down at the ground as their gazes shifted between Red Talon’s body and Talbot himself. The leader of the group, a griffon wearing a gold-plated helmet, nervously swallowed and eyed Talbot’s grip on his revolver, cowboy style, ready to snap to and load him and his squad—total six, to Talbot’s amusement—full of bullets.

They stared at each other for a tense minute, called off only when the beeping in Talbot’s ear notified him that his camouflage systems had rebooted. So long as he wasn’t going to be shot at, he wouldn’t need to fight his way out. So he hoped; the other part of the decision relied upon how much common sense the squad leader had.

The griffons gave no pursuit as Talbot stepped back, letting his form become translucent, staring down the leader up until the mirage swallowed his head and eyes. He disappeared back into the dark and let the general’s soldiers watch over the corpse.





“Holy fuck, there you are,” Mendoza whispered. He grabbed Talbot’s hand and pulled him over the edge of the crater. “Jesus Christ, you look like shit.” His outline looked over his shoulder, giving a thumbs-up to Pastor and Raymond, hidden away in the ruins of a building. “It’s good, we got him.”

“Where are the others?” Talbot asked, hurrying across the empty street as griffons circled overhead. “What’s going on? Why aren’t the griffons attacking?”

“Shit, man, I thought you’d know,” Mendoza said, looking around as Pastor waved them over. “I heard shots going on down there, griffon air squads moving down there, and then everything was silent. Red Talon’s boys called off their attack, and I think half their group’s already retreated. The guys were making for the north for Tesseraka like the end of the world was coming for them.”

“Yeah… I killed Red Talon,” Talbot said. In the shadow of the building, he sat down against a half-wall, popping off his helmet’s chin collar. He pulled up his balaclava and emptied his canteen in a single long drink. “The loyalists. Where are they?”

“Hell, sir, they bugged out as soon as things were going south,” Pastor said. “We gave them some real hell at the tower, but as soon you got grabbed, we had to ditch and head east. They didn’t give much chase, though, most of the griffons were too interested in seeing what Red Talon had in his claws.”

“Me.” Talbot chuckled as he rubbed his nose. “Well, I’m sure some of them saw me when I fell.”

“Yeah, we saw you take the tumble down the crater. Thought you were dead for sure,” Mendoza said. “Then you were alive, and then shit happened. That must have been one hell of a fight, huh?”

“You’re telling me.” Talbot capped his canteen, stuffing it away and taking the reprieve to catch his breath. He looked down at the medallions on his chest, twirling them around in his hand. They were more chipped than they were before, but still intact “These things aren’t too bad.”

“What, the medallions?” Mendoza looked down at his. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot to give you guys yours.” He withdrew one and tossed it over to Pastor, while Talbot gave his spare to Raymond. “Shield medallions. I guess, uh, they work, right? Seeing as you’re here and all.”

“Yeah,” Talbot said. “It’s like a shield that knocks anything that touches it back with the force of a goddamn eighteen-wheeler. I used it to punch Red Talon.”

“Damn. That must have hurt.”

“Damn right it did,” Talbot said, pulling over his mask and clipping his helmet back together. “Speaking of which: don’t rely on these things if you can help it. They short-circuit our camouflage.”

“Yeah, we heard,” Pastor said, reaching behind him and tossing Talbot his MR8. “I believe you dropped this. How the hell did you get out of there? The griffons were sending guys in there after the commotion died down.”

“If you ask me, I think they were just spooked,” Raymond said, his sniper rifle bundled on his back. “Saw a whole bunch of them arguing up in the sky after you guys fell. Probably wondered if they should go in after you guys, especially after the whole place blew up and pulled in a shit-ton of them.”

“A group of them saw me and Red Talon fighting, I think. Killed the general, popped two into his head, and then I look up and see them all staring at me like I was some sort of ghost.” Talbot gave a short laugh. “They didn’t shoot. I didn’t shoot. My cloak kicked in right at that time, so I backed off, and they let me walk.”

“You stared them down?” Mendoza asked, amazed. “You were staring each other down, and then you go cloak and walk off?” He shook his head, laughing to himself. “That’s fucking badass, man.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that later,” Talbot said. He looked at Pastor. “You said the loyalists retreated. I assume they went to the rally point to the east.”

“Probably,” Pastor agreed. “We shouldn’t have any problems getting out of this hellhole just by ourselves. And I’m sure Scarclaw is going to want to hear the news straight from your mouth. Best not keep him waiting.”

> Those Who Came Before
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Out of the way!” The door opened with a slam, kicking the dust and ushering in a gust of cool night air into the dusty cavern, littered with table-boxes topped with filled mugs and surrounded by clusters of red-armored griffons. At first, the griffons within were taken by surprise, but then started to smile, clap, and cheer when the Ghosts passed by them.

“Ancestors alive!” Leret popped his head up at the far end of the room, still holding his half-finished mug. “We thought you were all dead!”

“We followed you all back,” Talbot said. “We caught you guys by the tail end at the rally point, then you guys headed here. I didn’t know we established another camp. Had to do the usual, obviously, and snuck our way in without being seen.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Bloodfury said, standing up next to Leret. “This camp used to belong to a battalion under Red Talon’s command. The news spread like wildfire: a two-legged being, clad in black as dark as death itself and with eyes of an unliving blue, delivering a killing blow to the general using weapons that they thought—once thought—gave them an advantage.”

“A lot of Strongbeak’s forces had actually been wondering where the weapons came from,” Leret said, smirking at them. “They believe that Strongbeak stole an ancient relic from somewhere on Equis and now its guardians have traveled to our homeland to deliver righteous vengeance upon those who stole it.”

“And it’s not just Red Talon’s legion, either,” Bloodfury added. He nudged his way through the cramped room, bumping wings and shoulders until he came face-to-face with them, and motioned for the door guard to close the rickety wooden door to their cave entrance. “Every legion in the Empire will soon receive word of the defeat, and even those close to Helmguard are beginning to think that it isn’t worth being on the once-winning side when there’s ghosts hunting them down in addition to dealing with loyalists and fighting a war.” The emphasised word raised a roar of whistles and laughs from the crowd behind him.

“We’re becoming the boogeymen for these guys,” Mendoza said, nodding as he looked to each of his teammates approvingly. “I can live with that.”

“It’s good enough to gain us some serious credibility in the coming days,” Bloodfury said. He raised his mug to them, and the room followed. “To you, Ghosts. May your deeds pave the way to our victory, and the return of Emperor Arcus.”

“To the Ghosts,” Leret added, but closer to a whisper than a statement. Talbot looked around to see the griffons muttering their own agreements, realizing again that the wooden door was not the impenetrable barrier to sound that he’d forgotten it wasn’t. Then, every griffon chugged their frothy liquids in unison, and slammed every mug down loud enough to produce an ear-splitting crack before they returned to their cheer and music.

“And with that aside,” Bloodfury said, wiping away the beer from his beak, “Scarclaw wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Talk to us about what?” Pastor asked.

“I don’t know,” Bloodfury said, looking down a lonely hallway just off of the room, where two Guards stood at attention, ignoring the festivities. “But he was damn serious about all of you speaking with him as soon as possible. He said it was important.” His eyes looked back at them with no joy. “He said it was related to the findings you had in the armory.”





The room was no larger than the modest bunkroom they’d been given back at Kruvem, but it was lined from entrance to end with half a dozen wooden tables, large and wide as they held a plethora—more like a treasure trove—of items of various makes, organized by type. The torches in the room hung at the corners, providing just enough visibility for the Ghosts to stand in awe at the pickings that laid before them.

“Jesus Christ.” Pastor picked up the weapon on the table before him, a suppressed sniper rifle slated in the colors of nighttime camouflage. “It’s an AS-50. But it’s got no ID on it… no markings anywhere at all.”

“And a whole bunch of F2000s here, and a couple of Milana-2s,” Raymond said, picking up the rifle to examine its heat-damaged skin. “More than just a few, it seems. Looks like we might have had more than just a few visitors to this candyland.”

“You might be right,” Scarclaw said, observing the table bearing weapons and equipment neatly laid out for examination, and then the Ghosts as the group perused them. “We found only three corpses in here, with all of this equipment with them. Further questions to the imperial forces that were stationed here brought up no answers… just that this cave was off-limits as per the request of the Institute of Magic and by the orders of Strongbeak himself.”

“For study, most likely,” Talbot said. He picked up a combat helmet, identical to his own in design, and found the visor shattered, the jagged edges stained with the browning of dried blood. “It looks like whoever was here before us didn’t end up in as nice a place as we did. How did you get in here, anyway? I’d imagine if this place was off-limits by the boss himself, there’d be a couple of his powerhouses guarding it.”

“There were,” Scarclaw said. “It wasn’t easy to get rid of them, but the extra help from the regulars that should have been protecting them did a lot to edge things out in our favor.”

“They turned that easily?”

“A lot of the forces around here view this cave as cursed. Superstition carries heavy weight in griffonic culture, especially when it comes to desecrating the tombs of supposedly ancient warriors. When bad luck came around, the case was clear-cut when they started looking for scapegoats.”

“So that bit Bloodfury told us on Strongbeak stealing ancient relics from ‘somewhere on Equis’ just so happens to be right here? Ancient relics, my ass,” Mendoza said. He held a pair of rocket pods in his hands, identical to the ones he wore on his shoulders. “This ordnance… these guys weren’t fucking around. There’s enough stuff here to arm two squads with spec-ops grade equipment.”

“What reason would soldiers like these need all this equipment?” Scarclaw said. “It looks like a lot. Makes it easy to get bogged down, get surrounded by the enemy.”

“I’ve no doubt that’s probably what happened here. All of this gear seems to be unmarked and designed for stealth operations, so I think they intended this to be for infiltration and sabotage, using this equipment to cause havoc and delay enemy response for other offensives,” Talbot said. He scrounged through items, finding himself rifling through the smaller objects that came with the group: grenades, pouches, belts… and a journal, leather-wrapped in black with its polish shining in the dim torchlight, none the worse for wear. “Shell… come take a look at this.”

Pastor made his way over, receiving the book as Talbot held it over his shoulder. He flipped through the pages, then checked the front and back. “It’s a journal,” Pastor said. “A journal of… damn, the light’s a bit too dim. It’s in German.”

“Federation, definitely,” Mendoza said. “Like the uniform of that guy we found in the armory showed us. Kessler, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, like him. A lot of it’s hard to make out. Goddamn, I’ve never seen writing this illegible before.” Pastor moved to the table, holding the journal flat against the wood and letting the brightest of the light shine down on the pages. “I see a lot of references to mobilization, troop movements, experiments, and… my God. Portals? Skimming through the first half, he makes mention of Geneva multiple times.”

“Portals, experimentation, Geneva? That might be CERN they’re talking about,” Talbot said. “I think we’ve just figured out where Maynard stole his research from.”

“I thought Switzerland was a neutral party,” Mendoza said.

“They are. Doesn’t stop them from working under the table if they want to. Makes sense since they were already pretty chummy with the Federation before the war started,” Raymond said. He looked at a familiar row of magazines stacked at the end of the table, and moved to pick one up from the end to inspect the brass objects within. “Fifty-cal, mags for the AS-50… I wonder how much of the stuff Strongbeak took.”

“Might have been just the stuff he found on Kessler. Or worst case scenario: he snagged a bunch of these guys and got more than just a couple of rifles to look at.” Mendoza shook his head. “God help us if he found a couple of rocket launchers.”

“Given how the legions seem to be refitting themselves with these new weapons, and how we haven’t found any such thing yet, it’s hopeful to assume that he never got his hands on anything beyond the rifle,” Pastor said. “But forget about that: the European Federation was working on some sort of experimental teleportation device designed to move troops anywhere in the world.”

“One hell of a trump card to have,” Raymond said.

“Yeah. Top secret research stuff. Well, the teleportation worked… just not in the way they thought it did.” He skipped over a chunk of pages and went to the last, where the handwriting devolved into an indecipherable mess of lines and scratches. “Shit. I barely even recognize any of the words on here. Talk about hope, rescue, survival… death. Wait, I’ve got something. There’s a list of them down here, total four for the security detail. Nothing else on whether they had any researchers or persons of interest with them.”

“And Scarclaw and the griffons found three bodies in here,” Talbot said, searching through an unmarked metal case on top of a table in the corner of the room.

“Three corpses, and one MIA.” Pastor sighed and shook his head. “Not looking hopeful here. The trip was a one-way ticket. I hope to hell that isn’t the case for us.”

“Yeah, well, we have a bunch of magical ponies that can help us on that end,” Mendoza said. “I feel for these guys, man. Enemy or not, to die in a shithole far from home and Mother Earth… what a way to go.”

“I don’t have any intention of having us end up like these poor souls. How old were these corpses, Scarclaw?” Talbot asked the griffon, withdrawing a metal plate, sturdy but more thicker than flat, and gazed at it for a second before comparing the item to the joints of his exoskeleton legs. They matched.

Scarclaw shrugged, beak wavering between open and closed as he struggled for words. “Well, I… the corpses were beyond fresh. The decay was done, and what rot hadn’t taken the flesh left nothing but a desiccated husk behind to look at. Their uniforms were beyond distinguishable, torn and burnt to Tartarus and back. One had a lot of slash wounds, thin cuts that resulted in a lot of bleeding. I know the legions used blades made for that effect in past conflicts.”

“No armor on them?” Talbot asked. He tossed the plate back into its container with a careless clank and strode across the room to stand with Scarclaw as the rest of Anvil continued to look.

“Oh, no, they definitely had armor. And it was absolutely destroyed by whoever they fought against. My bet is that they went up against Strongbeak’s elites. You know how they are… large and tough to kill. Wouldn’t be surprised if one managed to close the gap on one of them and let loose.” He paced around the room, giving a lingering eye on the equipment as he passed by them. “I’ve no doubt that those soldiers dropped some of the equipment they had with them. The elites must have taken them back to their general.”

“I find it hard to believe that the soldiers managed to get away just like that.” Talbot paused, hearing the faint sound of shuffling coming from the hall outside. The patter of claws tapping against the hard stone floor grew louder until a familiar snow-white griffon peeked his head inside the room.

“Snowfeather!” Mendoza said. “Haven’t seen you around for a while, buddy! How’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m doing well enough,” the young griffon said. He shuffled inside and looked at the equipment strewn about around him with awe. “Incredible… I thought the findings were just rumors, but… all of this? It’s insane to think that Strongbeak didn’t think to relocate all of these samples immediately.”

“The process was hamstrung by your father,” Scarclaw said. “Bureaucratic annoyances were something that Strongbeak was never interested in dealing with. That made it easy for your father to contest the research conducted by the Institute at this site, and Strongbeak’s soldiers had no love for being posted as guards for an empty cave filled with nothing but a trio of corpses and useless equipment locked away in metal boxes—we had to pry them open before you got here, by the way. This cave went unused for a long time.”

“Yeah, this—” Raymond said, waving the fifty-cal magazine around in the air. “—ain’t useless.”

“I’d never thought my father to have been so embroiled in the intrigue of the court,” Snowfeather said, his voice laden with disbelief. “He never did talk to me much of what his duties entailed. And as I realize now that it involved dealing with such colorful personalities like General Strongbeak, I understand why.”

“An unfortunate consequence of working in such an important position,” Scarclaw said, lowering his head in deference to Snowfeather’s father. “He was a good griffon… and I was a fool to let Strongbeak get as far as he did. From the moment I first met him, I could tell that his ambitions stepped far beyond his station.”

“It’s not beyond fixing,” Talbot said. “But it’s baffling how Strongbeak didn’t decide to just take all of this back to the capital the moment he grabbed power. Research into some of the more lethal tools here would have easily made him factors more powerful than he is now. He could have won the war before it even started.”

“I know as much as you do when it comes to that,” Scarclaw said, shrugging as they watched Mendoza slap away Snowfeather’s curious claw from grabbing a gun and looking at it barrel-first before scolding him. “All that matters is that he didn’t take all of this, and now we have it. From the looks of it, a lot of this stuff will be helpful for you since we can’t resupply you.”

“Oh, trust me,” Talbot said. “All of this equipment here changes everything.” He watched Raymond as the sniper hefted the AS-50 and let loose a wolf whistle while looking down the sight at the barren wall. “And I have a few ideas as to what we can do with all of the extras…”





“That’s incredible.” A number of griffon unit markers were pulled back into the Empire’s own territories by a Night Guard as Shining watched. “We got the information about the same time as they did. They got word that General Red Talon had been killed in the middle of battle and most of the offensive just… fell apart. They didn’t even get into the range of the ballistae.”

“So the attack worked,” Luna said. “Such an insane strategy… I wonder if my medallions had any effect on the outcome.”

“Actually, it did.” Shining rolled out a scroll at the edge of the war map table, dragging his hoof down the body of the correspondence as he eyed through it. “Oh, Captain Talbot engaged Red Talon in combat and won.”

“You mean he actually went fist-to-claw combat against that bastard?” Harvey said, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I have to buy that man a beer after this is all over. The man’s made of steel to win like that.”

“Well, the actual details say that Talbot used the medallions as an offensive weapon to even out the differences between himself and Red Talon, and when the general was sufficiently weakened in their struggle, he used his weapon to finish the griffon off. In particular, he used the medallions as… wow, an enhancement to his own physical attacks?”

“Yes, the medallion acts as a shield to deflect any incoming physical damage,” Luna said. She levitated the scroll from Shining Armor and brought it over so she could read it herself. Her eyes darted from top to bottom as she took in the story, before saying, “Incredible. He used the shield magic itself to enhance his attacks. Far from my intention for the accessories, but brilliant.”

“And the mention of his appearance to the griffon forces afterwards, and even from the accounts that we’ve been hearing on the frontlines. They think he really is an honest-to-Celestia ghost.”

“Which works in our favor.” Luna’s smile reached from cheek to cheek, and she handed the scroll back to Shining with approving eyes. “Reputation. And there returns one facet of war that will work heavily in our favor. Perhaps my sister is right, and all we have to do is merely hold the line as we wait for the events in the Empire to run their course.”

“I thought you weren’t going to just wait for this all to blow over?” Harvey asked.

“You’re right. And while my sister may be right, my vigilance will not waver.” She shifted a number of night-blue pieces with the emblem of the moon over to the mountain borders. “The intelligence gathering can be allowed to slow for now. I will dedicate my Night Guard to keeping the mountain approaches safe.”

“Do we have any more information on these griffon airships, Princess?” Shining asked. He watched as an analyst walked over, three papers hanging in the air before her, and moved around several more of the pieces towards the inner cities of the Empire and switched the colors of a number around Fortress Helmguard to denote a change in allegiance. “More numbers for the loyalists. Things have been going great, all things considered.”

“No, there’s no further information on the airships than we do now,” Luna said. “They haven’t even been spotted anywhere near the frontlines. It’s strange… such vehicles of war would be a huge boon to the war effort, able to serve as a mobile outpost for griffon forces and a veritable siege machine.”

“Might be saving it for the worst of the battles to come,” Harvey said. Shining was handed another report, giving a nod to the analyst who gave it to him as the pony saluted and returned to his duties. When Shining’s expression fell from a neutral interest to a discerning scowl, Harvey cleared his throat. “Well, there, Captain… did something happen?”

“Yes.” Shining passed the letter over to Luna, who shared in his sentiment. “According to the Imperial Guard and Scarclaw himself, they’ve found the remains of human forces close to Fortress Helmguard.”

“Other humans? You’re kidding.”

“I would suggest that you read it for yourself,” Luna said, tugging on the letter to hand off the second page to him. “This one comes from Captain Talbot, addressed directly to you.”

Harvey took the letter from Luna’s magical grasp with suspicion, giving a wary look to the other two as he began to read over it. Upon passing his eyes over the first line, he sighed. “The Federation. Of course they’d do something like this.”

“The Federation?” Shining asked.

“The European Federation, to be exact. Like I said last time: it’s one of the three superpowers involved in the current war that mankind is embroiled in. Despite having the smallest in terms of landmass, the Federation boasts the world’s oldest and experienced soldiers, and their forte is centered upon cutting-edge technology, along with urban combat and electronic warfare. As such, the revelation that they were the ones behind the research for the portal that brought us here is no surprise to me.”

“Do you think they might have sent others through?” Shining asked. “This is serious. What if there are humans working for the griffons, too?”

“It says here that there are four humans total known in to them.” Harvey folded the paper in half and set it down in front of him. “Three have been confirmed killed, evidence pointing to the griffon forces, with the uniform of one found locked away in the lower depths of Fortress Helmguard’s armory. The fourth is missing, and assumed to be either dead… or kept somewhere where Strongbeak can keep an eye on him.”

“No doubt that’d be the Lockbox capitol prison close to Tesseraka,” Shining said, looking pointedly at the marked mountain that sat towering over the griffon capital city. “But that’s all that the Ghosts found. What if there are more?”

“Then we’d have to assume that they didn’t fare as well as we did.” He folded his arms, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. Shining and Luna waited for him to finish, the former taking the letter and placing on top of the pile of reports sitting next to him. “Well, that solves one mystery at least: how that madman Maynard got his hands on the information to build a portal.”

“You mean it wasn’t his?”

“No,” Harvey said. “He stole it, utilizing resources—official resources—to obtain the research on the portal technology. He also built up a surprising amount of influence due to selling classified information on the black market, information that our enemies put to good use. Whether by stupidity or arrogance, he ended up overplaying his hand and was caught in a pinch in the beginning of the war when we found who he was.”

“And then he escaped,” Luna said.

“He did. By revealing a small army’s worth of soldiers that single-handedly stemmed our own forces from catching him in the act, and allowed him to escape. He went off the grid shortly after, and only resurfaced after signs of his appearance were confirmed by our own intelligence agencies on a continent distant from the conflict. The Ghosts came to take him in alive, if possible, and rescue all of the scientific personnel that Maynard kidnapped to work on the portal research—me included.”

“And that portal was how you all ended up here,” Shining said, nodding as he looked to Luna. “Well, it’s quite the far-fetched tale, isn’t it? Being visited by aliens from another world?”

“Given the madness we’ve all been living through in the past weeks, it feels rather at home,” Luna replied with a joking smile. “Though, Doctor Harvey, you do say that the portal was being researched, but what for? I highly doubt that you had the intention of visiting our fair land given your rather… spectacular entrance.”

“Maynard didn’t go into much about it, but if it was taken from the Federation, there’s only one way to interpret it: they were attempting to create a portal system that could deploy their forces anywhere in the world and without being noticed. Imagine if we could do that right now…”

“We could strike straight at Strongbeak himself without worrying about having to fight through his soldiers,” Shining said. “I know you’ve said that you think us ponies and our magic are outlandish, but humans sure aren’t lacking in any outrageousness, either. The things you’ve showed us seem absolutely crazy. Some of it, like that invisibility, takes so much magic to maintain that it’s incredible that humans managed to even do it at all without magic.”

“Ingenuity makes up for the magic, I guess,” Harvey said. The war map shifted again as the bulk of the loyalist forces sat idle at the now-claimed Fortress Helmguard, and a small unit was moved up north, towards the mountainous regions of the Empire. “They’re moving north now, I see. What will they be facing?”

“General Gravelclaw’s forces,” Shining said. His voice was filled with apprehension as he looked at Harvey, with steeled eyes. “The General of the Land Cavalry. He’s in charge of all the battle wagons that the Empire uses, and the mountains are littered with mines used to produce metal for the war effort. Given how the griffons can’t approach this situation conventionally, it’ll all be up to the Ghosts here.”

“Well, they did happen upon the armaments that the dead Federation soldiers brought with them,” Harvey said. “Among them were several explosives and other ranged anti-armor weapons that will serve them well in this case. And last I recalled, Corporal Mendoza still has those rocket pods of his.”

“The city of Brightshard is where they’ll have to face General Gravelclaw. I wonder if he’s related to Scarclaw?” The pieces moved around as griffon forces were moved back to Tesseraka with a few units moving out to the frontlines. The Empire’s commitment to the war was beginning to falter; lesser arms on the field and with more idling in their cities pushed the ball off of their court and into the loyalists’, to sway and persuade.

“Unlikely,” Luna said. “Griffonic naming schemes stray towards common name-ends with militaristic history, the ‘-claw’ ending being the most common as it usually denotes an entire family heritage of noble military service. So, no, they are most likely not related.” She looked over to the wall across from her, where a map of the Griffon Empire hung, tall as it was wide, marked with the red scratches of notes and details proven true and false. “Brightshard. A mining city, if memory serves, a veritable display of the griffons’ endless industrial might. Their forges are ceaseless, always at work to fuel the Empire’s needs.”

“And a veritable nightmare to traverse, I hope,” Harvey said. “A place full of loud noises, clouds of dense smoke, and tons of commotion. The Ghosts will be right at home.”

“Yes.” Luna paused, staring at Harvey for a moment as the doctor returned her soft gaze with a puzzled expression. “It may please you to know, Doctor Harvey, that the research I have done concerning your return to your world has presented some… interesting details.”

“Oh?” Harvey folded his arms, leaning them forward on the table as he drifted his head closer. “Did you learn anything? Have you managed to find a way back for us?”

“Well, yes… but the portal is unstable, much like the one that brought you here. The time dilation I learned early on would not allow me to maintain any strong portal for long, and even if I could, the time dilation itself would make the proposition of returning a difficult affair.” She frowned, looking down at the table. “You have been here for too long.”

Harvey’s hands twiddled with the cloth on his elbows, and he shook his head in acceptance. “I couldn’t say that I didn’t expect that, really… we’ve been here for how long now? Months now?” He chuckled, a tired laugh from a wizened soul. “It was nice to hope, I guess. We already realized that early on that there would be no way to go home, and made peace with it, before the war began.”

“Yes, but…” Luna looked up with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes that to Harvey was the sign of a breakthrough. “There may yet be a way to return. I’ve been tackling that problem, you see: the time dilation, it’s merely the result of improper handling of the portal’s creation. To put it bluntly, our two worlds are like rivers, flowing parallel and in union. What your abductee did was essentially create a portal which damaged your dimension’s temporal energy, altering the flow and making it so that when we attempt to create a bridge, we do not see where you have left off, but where the world has gone without you. The world still passes by normally there, but here, it goes by faster than we can deal with.”

“Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff,” Harvey said with a groan. “Okay, fine. So even if you could theoretically fix this error, wouldn’t the same amount of time still have passed in our world? We would still have been gone for months, which is… well, while it’s not bad, the war was coming to a point really soon. That meant that if we do return, we might end up in a world where our nation is defeated. That would spell terrible things if we were to be found. We would have to resort to living off of the grid, and while I’m sure Raymond would be fine with that, the rest of us probably wouldn’t.”

“Yes, but, that is something that I also plan to investigate further: we can ensure the stability of the portal that we create so that you will return at the exact moment that you left. This, however, is only possible if we can create a mending portal that can repair the damage done, so we figuratively know the rate at which both our rivers flow—the same as each other’s. Through that, we can create a pathway to any point on the other river. This task should be possible with careful application of alicorn magic.”

“That… sounds reasonable, almost a little too much so.” Harvey shook his head again, but this time out of a humorous disbelief than melancholy, and with a flattering smile. “You ponies and your magic… a field of science unto itself, isn’t it?”

Luna bowed her head. “Thank you. Although I would like to take credit for this breakthrough, it was Twilight Sparkle who conducted a great deal of research into this particular topic… amusingly enough, following an incident where she was on a self-imposed monthly deadline for sending a letter to my sister, and forgot to do so only once. She was absolutely manic about it.”

“She’s quite the bright little bug, eh? What happened to that repository of knowledge she was looking for, anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, she found it,” Luna said, with a creep of blush on her face. “It was a gift from my sister to her. She wouldn’t talk about it.”





Captain Blacksword sniffed, rubbing his nose with an icy plated hoof as the dryness of the northwestern air stung his face. The mountaintop view provided a great vantage point, but a nice play to stay it was not. He returned to his tent, a bulky cover of heavy cloth and metal rods, hammered into the ground to prevent the high winds of the peaks from tearing it all apart, nodding to the guards that saluted him as he entered.

The tent was a sparse accommodation, built for utility rather than luxury. Even then, the luxury it provided against the harsh climate was more than enough for him, and the simple cots assigned to their expedition became the valued possession of every Night Guard across the ranges.

Sitting down at his desk—a trio of boxes pushed together and covered with a blue tarp donning Princess Luna’s moon on it—he shuffled the erratic collection of papers on the tabletop into a cohesive stack, and began to flip through them. All were letters from Princess Luna herself, each detailing some new concern she had with the war, or the griffons, or the Night Guard, or their position, or the weather, and so on. Each ended with Luna attempting to rectify whatever perceived problem they had by providing them the tools necessary, which meant that the Night Guard had the privilege of being the most well-armed and well-fed than they had in years.

The candle flickered as the tent flaps parted to reveal a Night Guard, a face that Blacksword had come to know well since his company had been deployed. “Private Indigo Stripe… what brings you here?”

“Uh…” The private swallowed, looking away to focus his attention on the rough cloth of the tent’s walls. He shifted around on his hooves, looking around as his indigo mane appeared as an unkempt mess of tangled hairs through his helmet. “I… uh, I don’t like this, Captain.”

Blacksword sighed, and put down the letters. He gestured to the empty cushion in front of his desk, which Indigo gladly took. “Well, Private… speak your mind. What is it this time?”

“The mountains, really,” Indigo said, his voice trailing off into monotone. Blacksword held his expression, sizing up Indigo as the stallion’s head seemed to dip every few seconds. Perhaps the thinness of the air was getting to him, but batponies had as much of a constitution for heights as pegasi did. It didn’t make sense for Indigo to be so out of it. “They’re… well, ugh, I don’t think I’m taking it too well up here.”

“Get some rest for a while, Private,” Blacksword said. “We only just moved up here, after all, being only stationed in Canterlot. Give your body some time to get used to it.

“I know, I know, it’s just that I really want to—” He raised a hoof and slapped himself across the cheek, sharply gasping and tenderly rubbing the stricken spot afterwards. “Ow! Okay, that… that’s better. Captain, I just got off guard duty. We’re so high up, I don’t think we should spend so much time just standing out there. It’s damn cold.”

“I can see your point.” Indigo nodded, and Blacksword frowned. The captain fidgeted in his seat, readjusting the claws that tapped against his belt. Such weapons were always present in training, but this was the first time in all his years of service that he ever had to use them. He was as jittery as the entire company over their usage, and they’d drilled thoroughly over the techniques in the days leading up to their deployment, when Princess Luna had demanded that they be ready to react on a moment’s notice. “Very well. I’ll see about decreasing the hours per shift, but that’ll be accompanied by an increase of them. We need eyes on the Empire at all times.”

“I know, sir. Thank you for helping on that. It’s not easy to do drills up here, either. We can’t work ourselves too hard or else we end up freezing. At least our defense emplacements still work.”

“Do you think it’ll matter if the griffons decide to try to push through here?” Blacksword snapped. Indigo’s jaw tightened, and his lips thinned into a tense line as he pondered his answer.

“No, sir,” he said. “But they’ll be prepared for the conditions—as are we. With all due respect, I don’t think it’s a wise decision for us to get winded before we even run into combat, even if we do have clothing to weather the cold. They’re better at this business than we are.”

“And we train because we need to level the playing field.” Blacksword head the ruffling of a cloak blowing in the wind, and the crunching of heavy boots approaching around his tent. There was the faint murmur of discussion outside, and then another Night Guard stormed in, this one a mare from the next mountaintop over.

“Captain!” she said, saluting snappily before she fell over on her rear. “T-the…” Her voice shook and she inhaled sharply, scooting over to the stove next to his desk and held out her hooves to accept the precious warmth. “W-we… we saw s-something… grif-griffon movement on th-the plains. Airships.”

“Airships?”

“Yes, sir. C-Captain Meteor demanded that I r-return to you immediately. He’s already s-sent out the call to arms to the other c-companies. We’re expecting an attack v-very shortly.” She pulled her cloak tighter around her and accepted a cup of hot cocoa from Private Indigo, pull from the nearby stove and steaming as she took a sip and let out a blissful sigh. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“From Meteor’s encampment? You did yourself proud today, Private,” Blacksword said. He looked to Indigo. “Notify all of my officers, and prepare for battle.”

“Sir? We’re going to fight against their airships?” Indigo asked.

“Yes.” He looked at the mare. “Stay here until you’ve recovered, and return to Captain Meteor if you’re able to. If not, then you’ll help us here. Princess Luna has entrusted us with stopping those airships from getting through, and by her name, we will.” Indigo was on his hooves and out the tent before he could react. He exited his tent, ordering his guards to keep a watch on the mare as he made his way down the hill to his company’s main encampment.

Indigo hollered as he entered, and every Guard in his sight began to scramble, assembling in formation in the middle of their cramped parade ground, while others left for the cliffs to main the ballistae that they’d hauled up the mountain with great effort. And Meteor was right—the vista revealed much of the Empire through holes in the clouds, and from where his camp was, he could see the bulbous shape of the airships rising up to meet them.

There was no doubt that they would be escorted by griffon air wings. And if that was the case, then it was up to the Night Guard to stop them. He patted his chest down of snow and proceeded downhill. There would be much fighting to be done before Luna’s peaceful night fell upon them.