Short story for Equestria at War. The Strawberry Duchy resists against a Griffenheim ruled by Archon Eros VII. Gabriella Eagleclaw prepares to organize her government for the inevitable war, while those loyal to Gabriella's reign fight to defend Strawberry.
Alfred sat on a wooden crate fumbling around with his burgundy newsie cap while other griffons around him idly shared smokes and stories while they waited for the meeting to start. His suit was made of wool and based on a popular clothing line in Fezera which was inevitably bankrupt by now. It had silver buttons and silk cords on the cuff links so that it could match the tassels of the headwear the township was famous for.
He thought the coat looked tacky, even if it wasn’t a wrinkled mess, and the rich ocean blue had become muddied with the occasional dirt marked on it. But it was the coat his father-in-law gave him as a gift on his marriage, and his wife was always happy to be reminded of something from her old life on the Fezera coasts. For his wife’s smile, he would wear any sort of tacky outfit, even the Fez!
Well, he’d prefer not to.
He was a part of Griffenheim’s peerage and though he didn’t have much, the 3rd son of a minor baron, he was determined to fulfill everything he promised her. A family, a modest household, a servant or two, he even bought her the latest fashions straight from Fezera every season, that was probably the easiest gift he always bought for her.
Then the revolution broke out, and he suddenly found it very difficult to provide the simple commodities he had so prided himself on giving to his family. He thought it was the end of the world when Kemerskai announced his presidency over the radio with his plans to overthrow the kaiser.
He remembered sitting in the hotel room he had purchased for his family when anarchists burned his home, solemn and grim at a desk, even as his wife stroked his wings and cooed that it would all be okay so long as they were together with the children.
He watched from his fifth story window one cold day in March when the Imperial Army spearheaded an assault through a street blocked by revolutionary soldiers. He watched as the rebels tried desperately to fight back, their machine guns raining death while rifles gave off sharp cracks attempting to quell the Imperial onslaught.
A detachment of Bronzehill dogs forced themselves through the enemy barricades and ripped apart the revolutionaries with bayonets and sharpened fangs.
Alfred gave a loud cheer from his window that day when he watched Imperial columns march down the street, their crisp uniforms and spiked helmets glistening in the evening sun. The proud banners of the empire were paraded through the streets, resolute in their attempt to crush the spirit of revolution.
Among those banners were flags from all corners of the empire. Bronzehill, Strawberry, Feathisia, even Angriver’s checkered emblems could be spotted among them.
Alfred was nearly brought to tears by the majesty of the Imperial Army marching through the streets of Griffenheim. It was a reminder to the rest of the world that Griffonia would not be cowed into submission by communist vermin and liberal traitors.
In the years that followed the end of Kemerskai’s reign, there was a hive of activity in Griffenheim as traitors were shot in the streets, buildings were rebuilt, commoners paraded in the streets, and priests of Boreas gave dull sermons on the importance of loyalty to Kaiser Grover VI.
Then one day, the activities increased, even when all the buildings were finished being rebuilt.
Traitors were still shot in the streets, but many of them were now officers of the imperial army. The priest sermons became less dull and more fiery, preaching of devotion and loyalty to Boreas. Then finally, the commoners stopped parading in the streets all together, replaced by the thundering military marches of the Imperial Army with armbands and banners declaring their allegiance to Archon Eros VII, the new regent of Kaiser Grover VI.
At first, Alfred was rather enthusiastic about Ero’s goals to break apart the monopoly of power wielded by the entrenched upper nobility of Griffenheim. There was little room for the minor noble houses of Griffonia to advance themselves in the empire since the influential talons of great families, such as the Goldenbeaks and Eagleclaws, held all the major government posts and commercial charters.
It would be a changing of the guard, and there would be boundless opportunities for lesser noble families such as Alfred’s to take government positions previously denied to them due to their inferior social standing. After all, who else would help the Archon maintain the functions of government?
Apparently, not the nobility.
By the end of 1006, all of the great houses of Griffenheim were stripped of their prestige and influence, replaced by army officials, priests, and those with fervent loyalty to Eros. The privileges of the peerage were stomped into the dirt, and the proud nobles in the Imperial capital were reduced to relying on personal assets and the goodwill of the Archon. Dissenters were quietly brought to back alleyways and shot, ironically the same ones which the communists and liberals were executed in only a few years prior.
Now he was sitting on a crate in his tattered coat, alongside about fifty other griffons who had grown discontent under the oppressive regime of the Archon. His friend Felix had told him about a gathering of malcontents, sponsored by Duchess Gabriella to sabotage the Imperial Army and eventually raise the flag of rebellion against Eros when the Duchesses’ armies would march on Griffenheim. They were meeting in the warehouse of an automobile factory, the owner being a staunch monarchist having claimed to have overseen the construction of the carriage car used by Kaiser Grover V himself.
Besides Felix, there were a few other peers who Alfred recognized by association or briefly met at a social function at some point. Some gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement, while others hid their heads feeling ashamed at being recognized in their current misfortune. Alfred allowed them their dignity, avoiding eye contact with those birds and remembering them as they were before, well groomed, proud, and the picture of Griffonian society.
The majority of those gathered were commongriffs, opportunists, and individuals who chafed under the Archon's strict religious laws. Some of these griffons had family members taken away in the middle of the night, only to discover them days later with a bullet in their skulls.
The noise in the room died abruptly, as an ivory colored Griffon strode into the room. He wore the fern green battle dress of the Strawberry Duchy, looking a few years older than Alfred. He went into the center of the assembled crowd, taking a moment to acknowledge the faces of all the griffons present.
“It brings me to tears to know that there are still Griffons who are loyal to the empire, who see the madness of Eros underneath his bitter lies and manipulation of our sacred faith.”
The soldier continued his impassioned speech, addressing the crowd of peasants and nobles without distinction.
“Eros chooses to destroy the people and traditions he is sworn to protect, rather than the radical revolutionaries plotting in Cloudbury. He appeals to a cult of personality, subjecting our Kaiser to humiliation and indignity. The Archon does not care for any of us, only for his vanity and insatiable ambition, and will crush the empire we have only briefly restored. Subjects of Griffonia, Gabriella calls upon you to restore the Kaiser!”
Many of the Griffons murmured amongst themselves. Some cried at the thought of the young Kaiser being manipulated by Eros while others stepped forward, hoping to fight for a better Griffonia. Alfred volunteered without hesitation. He was willing to do anything to secure a future for his family.
“Lieutenant Barris reports good success in organizing guerrillas to rise against the Archon near the outskirts of Vinnin, the first shipment of rifles should reach them by the end of the week.”
Gabriella glanced over to the map of Griffonia, where her war council had marked out the territories of the empire and the known troop deployments of the various imperial states. Emil Stormfeather, Gabriella's Minister of Defense, currently had the spotlight and was addressing the room on Strawberry's progress towards rearming the long neglected military.
It had been a tedious two years since her return to Readewetter. Her absence from the Strawberry Duchy had left her administration grinding to a halt, paralyzed and bloated with sycophants, incompetents, and narcissist nobles. She wanted nothing more than to raise the state grenadiers and march on Griffenheim, but there was not a chance in hell her ducal troops would be able to match the Imperial Army.
Was this Boreas way of punishing her for neglecting her domain for so long? The gods were surely cruel in their jests. Still, she was thankful for Regina’s efforts to guide the government in her absence. The Strawberry Duchy had undergone the first steps towards a second industrial revolution, and Readewetter had seen some moderate industrial development through liquidating some of the royal estates and subsidizing the industrial workforce.
Today the factories produced toasters and televisions, but tomorrow they would churn out guns and artillery.
“Major Irontalon reports good progress in overseeing the military factories to create standardized rifles and in mobilizing the army. The recruitment centers report a good turnout, especially after your speech to the nation. However…”
Emil paused hesitantly, looking meekly at his document as if he could somehow bargain with the paper into providing a more positive report.
Gabriella ruffled her feathers in annoyance, glaring at Stormfeather to carry on.
“Raiding the imperial army has drawn us some criticism from the capital, and the guilds are still providing some resistance to our administrative reforms. Furthermore, the Ministry of Education is reporting some issues in attempting to reduce illiteracy in some of the cities near Starclaw.”
Regina chuckled, “Cousin Gene sent a communique earlier today that having more officers won’t mean much if half of them can’t read.”
Gabriella shot her a look but then gave an exhausted sigh, “Point taken, we’ll put that on the agenda for tomorrow, Erich?”
The Minister of Foreign Affairs straightened his tie and cleared his throat.
“Your highness, Bronzehill has confirmed their support for us and have agreed to aid us against the Archon. Riots in Feathisia have kept communication with the Feathisian government tenuous, but it can be assumed that Duke Gerlach will undoubtedly support you. Some minor troubles in the local political scene but nothing that should worry us.”
Gabriella’s heart fluttered a bit at the mention of Gerlach, and she hoped that she would see him at least once before the year’s end. Erich flipped the page on his report, and his face immediately turned grim.
“As of yesterday, Yale has officially capitulated to Griffenheim. We expect Greifmarschen to be the next target within the month. Romau is firmly in the Archon’s sphere of influence, and Angriver has not responded to any of our diplomatic requests. We haven’t attempted to reach out to Katerin-”
“Don’t even bother with that,” Gabriella sighed.
She looked over the military reports and gave a slight frown, pondering for a moment before dragging her claws gently on a map. She drummed the tip of her talons on the Skyfall Federation.
“Regina, how are the state of affairs in Skyfall and Fezera?”
Regina gave Gabriella a puzzled look before responding.
“The local Politie were apparently successful in charging Mayor Godard with corruption and have shut down most of the major crime families. Their economy is still garbage but they’ve made decent strides in attempting to reform their government. Guichard’s niece Genevieve Guildedwing is the chancellor of Skyfall now, and she’s working towards revitalizing the federation’s economy.”
Gabriella chuckled, “If I recall correctly, Guichard made a huge showing last year of buying out the private armouries and funding their fleet in preparation for a possible invasion from Fezera. Now Genevieve is paying for an army with no enemy to fight. Lets do her a 'favor' and hire Skyfall's army for our war against Eros.”
“That could work, we’ll need more funds though. We’re still subsidizing the domestic industry and we haven’t seen a huge return on the investments yet.”
“A loan. We’ll take out a loan under the pretext of investing in our eastern provinces. The banks in Skyfall love to charge a high interest rate, and we’ll begrudgingly agree so long as they allow us to contract some of their military as mercenaries. Guildedwing will practically leap at the chance to gain some profitable loan repayments and make use of her idle army; it'll be like killing two griffons with one bullet for her. We can increase our trade with Skyfall and allow them collateral with some rural land to make them less apprehensive of us defaulting on our loan.
Regina laughed, “We’re paying for Skyfall’s army with their own money essentially. It’s a canny ploy Gabriella, and I love it.”
Gunshots rang out throughout the battlefield, and artillery explosions roared everywhere. Sometimes in the far distance, sometimes nearby, Eric prayed silently to Boreas in-between his shots that the artillery shells wouldn’t land anywhere near him.
On the other side of the river, Griffonian troops were hastily building pontoon bridges as engineers swaggered forward in cumbersome gear to construct the floating decks. From the forest line, tens of Griffons presented themselves as floating targets attempting to glide across the river rather than risk wading through the river under a rain of machine-gun fire.
The Griffonian Army came like a relentless wave. In a different time period, they would have easily overrun Eric’s fighting position and slaughtered him like a helpless mare.
This is the 11th century, Eric thought to himself as he loaded his karabiner and fired off another shot.
We aren’t using outdated breech-loaded rifles anymore, he continued a steady tempo of gunfire and cycling the bolt on his rifle.
An artillery shell landed perfectly on a pontoon bridge, resulting in a fiery explosion and dismembered body parts raining around everywhere. A nearby machine gun continued its incessant firing, and Eric saw enemy Griffons crash unceremoniously to the ground.
Flying was a natural instinct to Griffons, but it’s difficult to soar gracefully with a rifle, ammunition, and a backpack weighing you down. Few Griffons or even Alicorns could attempt military maneuvers in the air with the weight of combat equipment, merely maintaining flight was already a struggle in itself.
Eric held his breath and squeezed the trigger. His rifle gave off a sharp crack. Across the river, a Griffon crashed into a nearby tree. In the air, a Griffon abandoned the safety and comfort of cover. One had to be either talented at flying or pray that his enemy was a terrible shot.
Eric fired his rifle again, and another Griffon spiraled downwards into the river.
That one didn’t pray enough, he thought to himself.
Suddenly there was a sharp whizzing sound and Eric ducked down into his trench, others weren’t as lucky as he heard the pitched screams of the Griffons around him. Gurgling blood, hysterical wails, and desperate cries for medics filled the sound of Eric’s trench. Boreas, how many of these bastards were there? No matter how many they killed, it seemed like more would swarm out of the forest.
Through the chaos, he could hear the distinctive sound of a whistle being blown, and the chorus of a dozen different Griffons crying out a battle screech.
“For Eros and the Empire! For Kaiser and Griffenheim!”
The corporal screamed Eric’s name though he had no idea from which direction of the trench. Eric skirted quickly through the fortification, making his way to the vacant machine gun position where the gunner was wheezing out what was most likely his last breath. He loaded in the ammo belt and began letting loose a hail of bullets at the approaching Griffons desperately charging through the river.
Griffons screamed and fell into the river. Water sprayed everywhere from the bullets slamming onto its surface, and the blood of the dying swirled easily into the steady river currents. It was odd to think that 5 years ago, he used to play in this river with friends from Winterbell during the summer.
An explosion rang out in a nearby trench, he could feel the dirt rain down on his feathers and screaming from all around him. He felt a pang of guilt that he was thankful it had missed him and hit someone else instead. There was a loud roaring sound in the sky and Eric’s heart sank. He ducked down into the dirt and tried to make himself as small as he could.
Please don’t let this be how I die, Eric thought bitterly to himself.
There was the distinctive noise of machine-gun fire, and Eric could hear the sound of bullets impacting the dirt floor near him. After a moment's reprieve, Eric realized he had been spared from the enemy fighter's strafing run. Others weren’t as lucky, and he could hear them cursing at the enemy aircraft or shrieking out bloody murder.
“What the hell are the Flak teams doing!” somegriffon cried out.
The exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm him, and he could feel the soft soil beckoning him to stay on the floor. It would be so easy to just lay there for-
Suddenly he was yanked up off the ground and thrown onto the trench's walls.
“We’re holding onto this trench, don’t let a single one of their dirty talons step onto Strawberry! Drinks are on me tonight!”
Eric gave a heavy sigh as the corporal rushed through the trench, picking up the dying and yelling at the living. He leaned over towards his machine gun and continued firing, praying to Boreas that he’d survive another day on the Osnabeak Line.
The room was buzzing with activity, government officials and military staff were present as Colonel Starbill moved his claws alongside a map of the Strawberry Duchy’s borders with Griffonia and Feathisia.
“Our infantry divisions are holding well on the Osnabeak Line, particularly the 3rd, 5th, and 8th divisions defending the Grifking river. Count Bronzetail has retreated behind the rivers of the Raven Lakes, but our flanks on the eastern line are still well defended. Reinforcements from Bronzehill’s 8th Hounds are providing us support from the city of Bellen as their main operating base, and we may be able to coordinate a small encirclement from their attempts to flank our defensive line near Pfotenhausen.”
Hans Starbill's face became grim, and the atmosphere in the room became tense. Feathers became stiff, as every griffon knew what the colonel would discuss next.
Gabriella's face was expressionless, though her claws tightened. The duchess looked exhausted, her vibrant pink feathers seemed faded and almost lifeless. She was thinner, and her wings occasionally slouched whenever the meetings lasted too long.
Six months before the Archon declared war on Strawberry Duchy and Bronzehill, Grand Duke Gerlach had been killed while attending the Volkshof. The tenuous balance in the government’s political coalition collapsed, and the country was tearing out its own throat in a civil war between the right-wing FNV party and the left-wing PvdA.
Gabriella had taken news of Gerlach’s death personally, and confined herself to her room for almost a full week before she was capable of resuming her duties again. Regina was the only Griffon whom the Duchess permitted to see her at that time, and many government officials worried that Strawberry was going to have an absent ruler again.
Gabriella still maintained an air of authority around her, though some days it felt as if she was going to shatter into a million pieces from exhaustion.
Gabriella nodded to Colonel Starbill, “Please continue.”
The colonel saluted and continued where he left off.
“Of course your highness. As we all know, Feathisia has been in a civil war ever since Duke Gerlach was killed. Fighting has been contained to the local countryside between the militias and roaming free companies for the FNV or the PvdA. The army is attempting to maintain order in De Vleugels, but no real command structure for the Feathisian Army exists anymore. However, the issue is that Griffenheim has taken advantage of the confusion in Feathisia to invade Rima and Reitscheid while the Feathisian Army was confined to De Vleugels.”
“They plan to go around Osnabeak through Reitscheid,” Regina said with apprehension, the severity of the situation causing her to look at the map with a mix of horror and nausea. “It’ll be like what Changelings did in Olenia against the Northern Line.”
“Can we redeploy any of our units in Osnabeak towards the Archon’s troops?” Gabriella asked.
“Only the 5th division your highness,” Starbill replied, “Field Marshal Mistfeather reports that the Imperial Army has been relentlessly attacking Osnabeak, and all our divisions are hard pressed to maintain the current frontline.”
“One division won’t be enough,” Gabriella murmured to herself, contemplating the situation at hand. “Rally the nobles, it's time for them to fulfill their oaths. Send a message to my cousin Gene to gather the knights near Winterbell and to repel the enemy from crossing the Brantbeak river into Osnabeak. Send a message to Lieutenant Barris to commence his partisan uprising to slow down the Archon’s troops as much as he can.”
Gabriella sighed, “The nobles will approve of one of my own family members leading a royal contingent of troops. Gene has always been headstrong, but he understands the enemy's mobile warfare tactics from his studies in Equestria. He’s boasted to me before about how the troops under his command would be willing to die for him, now he'll get to prove it.”
He was exhausted, Alfred was desperate for a moment’s respite. The soldier slammed the stock of his rifle into Alfred’s back, he let out a surprised wail and continued marching forward with his claws on his head.
Their guerrilla war had gone well for the first few weeks, raiding unsuspecting Griffonian military convoys and sabotaging bridges that were crucial for the Archon’s invasion into Feathisia. They even ambushed a company of imperial troops that were engaged in a firefight with the Feathisian militia.
Lieutenant Barris had informed them that Strawberry and Feathisian troops were mustering together to repel Griffenheim's attack on Reitscheid. It was up to them to slow down the Griffonian troops as much as they could while the two dukedoms gathered their armies to coordinate a counter offensive.
They lost many griffons in the third week of fighting, but intercepted communications and official news reports from Readewetter confirmed that imperial forces were retreating from Northern Reitscheid.
A successful pincer movement by Gene Eagleclaw pushed the Griffonian armored divisions back across the Brantbeak river, and Gerben Kogchel was able to seize emergency powers in order to organize the Feathisian Army.
They holed up in the forests of the Interriver to reorganize themselves while waiting for their eventual rescue by Gabriella’s armies.
Weeks turned to months as their supplies dwindled. Imperial troops eventually found their hideout and bombarded them with mortar strikes one early afternoon. Lieutenant Barris attempted to rally all the griffons into a desperate last stand, but there was no point.
The fighting only lasted for a few hours as Griffons dropped their rifles and attempted to flee deeper into the forest or were gunned down by Griffonian machine guns.
To his credit, Lieutenant Barris held a small dugout and killed a number of Griffons before he ran out of ammo. The lieutenant was gunned down, his last moments in life were spent attempting to charge a Griffonian officer with a broken wine bottle.
Alfred heard the sound of Felix collapsing behind him; his breathing was shallow and exhausted. A gunshot rang out behind Alfred, and he barely had time to process what had happened before the soldiers gave him a shove to continue marching.
Eventually, they stopped at a dirt crossroad, and Alfred was given a short moment to rest.
One of his guards sauntered over to him and offered him a drink from his flask. Alfred guzzled the cheap whiskey greedily, the Griffon staring at him with a mix of apathy and pity.
He gave the flask back and murmured his thanks. The soldiers proceeded to put a sign around Alfred's neck and began to tie a noose around his neck.
He closed his eyes as they began to lift him higher. The rope steadily choked the life out of him as he desperately gasped for air. He was tempted to claw at the rope with his talons, but he knew it would be a pointless gesture.
He could have said anything with his last dying breath. He could have declared his loyalty to the empire or Gabriella. He could have cursed Archon Eros or cried out to Boreas to preserve him.
But he only croaked out an apology, desperately hoping that his wife would one day forgive him for dying without her.
War is incredibly unpleasant. There are few things enjoyable about dying in the mud and killing another living being.
However, Eric had to admit that riding in the back of an open-backed truck en route to the next battle was an incredibly satisfying experience in comparison to marching there in the mud.
The griffons talked quietly amongst themselves until suddenly, there was a hush as someone turned up the radio.
“...and in other news, an army of Bronzehill dogs led by the young Count Barnaby Bronzetail was able to successfully encircle a Griffonian armored division around the city of Crowstanz. Duchess Gabriella assures her people that with these continued military successes, the war will be over by Christmas. “
The troops let out a hearty cheer as griffons toasted each other with their flasks and gave each other amiable embraces.
“Who’s a goodboy! God bless those magnificent mutts in Bronzehill!” Eric cried out. He gave a toast towards the sky and took a heavy swig of his canteen, as the rest of the griffons laughed in agreement.
Nogriffon wanted to ruin the moment by asking about the rumor that was on everyone’s mind. Not a single griffon wanted to ask if it was true that Angriver was planning to support Griffenheim after finally destroying the remnants of the revolution that had been hiding in the forests of Scheibwald for the last two years. They were afraid to speak the rumor into truth.
They took the moment to enjoy the short respite they had, hoping that the war would soon be over. All they wanted now was to return back home and be swarmed by adoring female griffons.
It was odd to think that a year ago, they were resisting against the overwhelming might of the Imperial Army on the Osnabeak Line. Now they were preparing to march onto Griffenheim to possibly end the war once and for all.
Planes flew by overhead, but the sound only made Eric smile. The Feathisian air force had won the skies, and the sound of aircraft was something to take comfort in. It felt good being on the side with air superiority for once.
The truck made a turn near a crossroads, and Eric caught the sight of a rose colored griffon in a tattered blue coat hanging from a nearby tree branch.
The words TRAITOR were sprawled over a sign hanging from the body’s neck.
He wanted to feel pity and sorrow for the poor griffon as he swung lifeless in the breeze, but to Eric’s shame, he felt relieved that it had been another griffon that had died in this war instead of him.
All he wanted was to survive the war and go home.
“Sorry mate,” Eric murmured to himself as he took a quick drink from his flask, “better me than you.”
