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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Didn't Plan That Out
The Venerable and Forever Grand Chancellor Gizentine VI regarded from atop his tower the largest harbor of Griffentine, considered one of the most powerful griffon nations in the circle of the world. It had got so powerful through the key strategic maneuvers of swallowing up petty rivaling city-states, bullying weaker territories into annexation, having a vast trade route within its own nation as well as others, and most importantly, by having one of the most impressive land armies ever to conquer and pillage (and get paid for it, too).
Gizentine himself was what one would consider a renaissance type of leader. He was a great patron of the arts, heavy supporter for social and economic programs, a brilliant strategist and duelist in one, and in his spare time he enjoyed hunting in the countryside and fighting his fellow noblemen to the death in duels to appease his ego (also when they dipped into the treasury too deeply).
"Are all preparations complete?" Gizentine VI asked.
His noble advisor nodded his old, sagely head. "Everything has gone accordingly to plan, your excellency. The troops are well armed and heavily supplied with the best seagriff sailors money could buy. We have even taken precaution by arming a fifth of the army with anti-magical weaponry as well as armor." The advisor dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "It was quite a, uh, costly affair altogether with an army this size."
Said army was housed in the ships inhabiting the harbor. There were so many the blue of the ocean was entirely blocked out by the sea of wood and sails, all brimming with eager soldiers impatient for the opportunity to wage war.
Gizentine VI chucked. "You have no need to worry about the treasury's empty pockets. With what I have planned, all of Griffentine shall enjoy the bounty of the ponyland's great wealth!"
The advisor coughed into his talon, a mere frail branch next to the impressive oak that was his leader's willpower. "That is all well and good, sire, but how exactly are we to refill the treasury by waging war on Equestria?"
"It's not exactly war. More like mounted raids of their coastal towns, cities, and ports. Pony goods are considered rare delights in griffonlands across the world, and thus we'll make a killing by controlling the market with them."
"And how do we prevent the ponies counterattacking?"
Gizentine VI guffawed. "By what, the sea?" He shook his head and barked out a hearty laugh. "The ponies have no navy! Even if they did they're poor excuses for fighters!"
The advisor nodded. "Once again I am amazed by your genius, Grand Chancellor. But..."
Gizentine VI arched a brow.
"We also used to not have a navy. Until you commanded one be formed. Doesn't it seem a bit... risky?"
Glancing back once again at the harbor filled to the brim with warships, Gizentine VI regarded his advisor's words with careful consideration.
"...Naaaah, I'm sure it'll go fine," Gizentine VI said, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, if this raid is successful, I'll go down in history as the most brilliant griffon leader in all of history! What's the worse that could happen?"
"Sire, the army was soundly defeated," the noble advisor said.
Gizentine VI wasn't listening, on account of being utterly flabbergasted at the horrifying sight of his once grand army. Every ship had returned to the harbor, but instead of being laden with loot like planned, all of the soldiers were quick to fly or jump off each ship, most a sickly greenish color while others were covered in the wounds of battle. Even high in his tower, Gizentine could make out the chorus of their combined retching.
"How... how is this possible?" Gizentine VI asked, his voice nary a whisper.
"Well, it turns out that most wargriffs get seasick very easily. It seems the seagriff sailors warned you about this but you didn't exactly listen. After the journey, most were in a sorry state of barely clinging to consciousness, never mind fighting. And those who could were beaten off because they just kept on... well... vomiting everywhere."
Gizentine VI didn't even respond, too absorbed with his own despair.
"Also, the ponies stole all of our siege and anti-magic weaponry. Which means Griffentine is pretty much bankrupt."
Gizentine VI was on the floor, sobbing to himself. "How could it get any worse?"
"Well, it looks like the returning soldiers are about to mount a mutiny once they're done vomiting."
"I WAS BEING RHETORICAL!"
Gizentine himself was what one would consider a renaissance type of leader. He was a great patron of the arts, heavy supporter for social and economic programs, a brilliant strategist and duelist in one, and in his spare time he enjoyed hunting in the countryside and fighting his fellow noblemen to the death in duels to appease his ego (also when they dipped into the treasury too deeply).
"Are all preparations complete?" Gizentine VI asked.
His noble advisor nodded his old, sagely head. "Everything has gone accordingly to plan, your excellency. The troops are well armed and heavily supplied with the best seagriff sailors money could buy. We have even taken precaution by arming a fifth of the army with anti-magical weaponry as well as armor." The advisor dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "It was quite a, uh, costly affair altogether with an army this size."
Said army was housed in the ships inhabiting the harbor. There were so many the blue of the ocean was entirely blocked out by the sea of wood and sails, all brimming with eager soldiers impatient for the opportunity to wage war.
Gizentine VI chucked. "You have no need to worry about the treasury's empty pockets. With what I have planned, all of Griffentine shall enjoy the bounty of the ponyland's great wealth!"
The advisor coughed into his talon, a mere frail branch next to the impressive oak that was his leader's willpower. "That is all well and good, sire, but how exactly are we to refill the treasury by waging war on Equestria?"
"It's not exactly war. More like mounted raids of their coastal towns, cities, and ports. Pony goods are considered rare delights in griffonlands across the world, and thus we'll make a killing by controlling the market with them."
"And how do we prevent the ponies counterattacking?"
Gizentine VI guffawed. "By what, the sea?" He shook his head and barked out a hearty laugh. "The ponies have no navy! Even if they did they're poor excuses for fighters!"
The advisor nodded. "Once again I am amazed by your genius, Grand Chancellor. But..."
Gizentine VI arched a brow.
"We also used to not have a navy. Until you commanded one be formed. Doesn't it seem a bit... risky?"
Glancing back once again at the harbor filled to the brim with warships, Gizentine VI regarded his advisor's words with careful consideration.
"...Naaaah, I'm sure it'll go fine," Gizentine VI said, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, if this raid is successful, I'll go down in history as the most brilliant griffon leader in all of history! What's the worse that could happen?"
"Sire, the army was soundly defeated," the noble advisor said.
Gizentine VI wasn't listening, on account of being utterly flabbergasted at the horrifying sight of his once grand army. Every ship had returned to the harbor, but instead of being laden with loot like planned, all of the soldiers were quick to fly or jump off each ship, most a sickly greenish color while others were covered in the wounds of battle. Even high in his tower, Gizentine could make out the chorus of their combined retching.
"How... how is this possible?" Gizentine VI asked, his voice nary a whisper.
"Well, it turns out that most wargriffs get seasick very easily. It seems the seagriff sailors warned you about this but you didn't exactly listen. After the journey, most were in a sorry state of barely clinging to consciousness, never mind fighting. And those who could were beaten off because they just kept on... well... vomiting everywhere."
Gizentine VI didn't even respond, too absorbed with his own despair.
"Also, the ponies stole all of our siege and anti-magic weaponry. Which means Griffentine is pretty much bankrupt."
Gizentine VI was on the floor, sobbing to himself. "How could it get any worse?"
"Well, it looks like the returning soldiers are about to mount a mutiny once they're done vomiting."
"I WAS BEING RHETORICAL!"