The Marenberg Organ
No Time for Caution
Theme Music!
Admiral Biscuit
All around Marenberg, the battle raged. Pony defenders had gone out at dawn, charging out through the gates, even as the attacking army was forming up into ranks, and they met in the fields surrounding the walled city.
A furious melee had been raging in the air, as well. Pegasi had swarmed up, off the parapets and off rooftops, as well diving into battle from cloud perches above.
All the cloud perches were gone, shredded by a full day's fighting. What hadn't been destroyed by the aerial scuffle had been hit by mis-targeted unicorn spells.
Commander Jade Thorn tallied reports of the battle as they came in from section leaders. One after another, the reports were nearly identical—the pony troops were holding their own, and the enemy lines were weakened. One more push, perhaps, would send them skulking off into the approaching night, never to return.
The wisest course of action would surely be to pull the soldiers back inside the walls. They could rest, and in the morning go at it again.
And again, and again, and again. Thus far, there had not been a definitive push—the battle had stagnated on the plain.
Two strategies came to mind. The most conventional was to simply pull ponies out of other quadrants, amass a big force, and push their regiments though the weakest spot. There were a few places where that might work, and once they'd broken the siege, victory would be assured.
On the downside, that took time, and it was likely the enemy would be watching for such a play.
That left him with his second option. Riskier, but if it worked, a pony victory would be complete.
“Get me a pegasus messenger,” he barked. “I have new orders!”
“New orders!” The shout went around the camp, signal flags were raised, and moments later a young pegasus swooped in for a landing.
•••
From the walkway around the Marenberg keep, worried eyes watched the horizon, calculating the ebb and flow of battle lines . . . and the young pegasus who was flying straight towards them at top speed.
She skidded to a landing on the parapet and made a quick salute, and then said somewhat breathlessly, “New orders! Commander Jade Thorn says to open the last stop.”
“The last stop?”
“The last stop.”
Subaltern Starbuck let out a quiet sigh. “So it's come to this.” He galloped down the ramp, and then raced through the compound towards a set of double doors.
Without even slowing, he crashed through them, the noise as they boomed open completely drowned out by the Marenberg Organ.
The Marenberg Organ was a marvel of pony engineering. It could be heard for miles around, its melodic sounds inspiring ponies to greatness.
It had begun as a simple calliope, towed behind the earliest settlers as they made their way to what would become Marenburg. When the settler ponies had made their new home, they’d built a roof over it, then a small wooden building around it.
Over the years, it had grown and expanded with the city, until now it made up the heart of the palace.
The thousands of pipes had no equal anywhere else, not even in Canterlot. They ranged from clusters so tiny that a breezie would feel at home with them, all the way up to ranks six stories high . . . and the granddaddy of them all, occupying a former watchtower, was the 128' pipe.
Surrounded by keyboards and stops, sitting above pedalboards, Cantor Bataille played. He had been going non-stop since the first hoof stepped outside the walls, and he would not stop until the final hoof had returned.
Inside the organ house, the sound was somewhat muted, but only somewhat. Subaltern Starbuck had to shout to be heard. “Final stop!”
“Are you sure?” the organist bellowed in reply, not slowing his tempo one whit.
“This is no time for caution!”
“Very well.” That was only a whisper, completely unheard over the cacophony of pipes. Already, his mind was considering how the 128 foot pipe would add to the mix of sounds.
Needs more brass. He reached over to his left and tugged a few wooden knobs. Almost instantly, the tone of the music changed into a more regal sound.
As soon as he was back in his groove, he nodded, and shifted on his seat. Already, he knew that the ponies behind the organ—the ones who galloped on the treadmill to pump the bellows that made it breathe—had fallen to their new task. A mighty pipe took a prodigious quantity of air.
“Brace yourselves!” He stretched out his hoof, caressing the knob slightly, before yanking it out with resolute determination.
On both sides of the organ, a red danger light illuminated.
Cantor Bataille leaned forward, his hooves racing over the keyboard as his hooves danced on the pedals below him, reaching further and further into the bass range. Subaltern Starbuck could feel the building beginning to shake as longer and longer pipes belted out their tone, and then with a shattering suddenness, the 128' pipe joined the mix, shaking loose what little dust was left on the rafters. A crack raced down the wall, followed by a chunk of plaster crashing down beside it.
Bataille ignored it completely. “More air!” was the only thing he said.
•••
Out on the battlefield, the effect was immediate. Everypony felt the song in their wings and horns and hooves, and it filled them with strength and determination. They charged forth as one, their song mixing with the song of the Marenberg Organ, their strikes in time with the rhythm, all of it accompanied by the thundering bass of the organ.
Their weariness fell away from them and they were made fresh again, instantly capitalizing on their enemies' confusion. Within minutes, the tide of battle had shifted totally, and mere minutes after that, it had become a complete rout, as the baffled enemies broke ranks and hastened back to their camps in disarray.