//------------------------------// // The Mule // Story: Grey Little Pony // by Dusty Miller //------------------------------// The clown’s eyes sidled towards her, then drew away quickly. “But they kept me away from you earlier-and, on my word, you may laugh, but I was lonely for missing friendship.” “Excellence, he is known as the Mule. He is spoken of little, in a factual sense, but I have gathered the scraps and fragments of knowledge and winnowed out the most probable of them. He is apparently a man of neither birth nor standing. His father, unknown. His mother, dead in childbirth. His upbringing, that of a vagabond. His education, that of the tramp worlds, and the backwash alleys of space. He has no name other than that of the Mule, a name reportedly applied by himself to himself, and signifying, by popular explanation, his immense physical strength, and stubbornness of purpose.” ― Isaac Asimov, Foundation and Empire. Here I sit. I have come to sit and think but instead I shi... No. No vulgar outhouse humour on my new magic slate. My retirement gift. My gift for a lifetime of service to Her Majesty and The Guard. I wonder what will happen if I write... I was a spy for the Equestrian Guard. I was a spy for the Equestrian Guard. I was a spy for the Equestrian Guard. I was a spy for the Equestrian Guard. Well, there it is. I can write obscenities but not secrets. But what to compose? ‘Write what you know. Failing that, Blog’, they said as they slapped me on the back, at my secret retirement party of a few, acquaintances. So, here I go. Here I sit in the Warriors’ Tavern also known as The Draco Tavern. A hole in the wall that’s precise location isn't exact. Sawdust on the floor. Furniture that’s been in more than a few barroom brawls. Father and son bartenders with the same name, Draco. The owners-bartenders have been called Draco for centuries. The reason, the truth lost in time. I sit in my corner observing all, as is my practice and was my trade. I drink one of the two choices, pony ale, or that gut rot they brew back on their farm. Like being kicked in the head with a lemon slice wrapped around a golden horseshoe. But that's just my biased opinion. Ho oh, what new hell is this? A grey pony just trotted in. I’ve never seen him before, and I spend a lot of time here now. Allow me to describe. Young male earth pony. A little on the slender side if he's a new grad. Earth ponies usually put on a bit more muscle mass from boot camp. Very alert, eyes and ears perked. Walks up to bartender, like an old joke. They stare at each other. “A hem, hello. Princess Luna sent me here.” “So what. Do you have a delivery, a message?” “No, I was just sent here.” “Again I say, so bucking what?” “She said, for the friendship experience.” “What's that on your face?” “It's an ink-vine scar, sir.” “Can the ‘sir’, shave tale. Aren’t you going to ask me about my scars?” “No, I'm just here because Luna sent me.” “So, you follow orders blindly do you? Here's what following orders did for me!” Draco whacks his wooden table leg on the bar and turns his face to show the scars streaked across the side of his face. You’re going to hate yourself, earth pony, when you find out that a unicorn fooled you without magic. That wooden leg is a table leg the Dracos’ use to club unruly patrons. Rumour has it that those scars are from one of their stills blowing up. Draco sighs, “Do you have any money?” “No.” Another sigh, cheap bastard that he is. “First one’s on the house.” Unprecedented! Where was my free drink the first time I was allowed in here? Draco or Draco Jr said I was lucky to be let in because I was a mule. This will be rich, first sip of Draco’s pony ale. And he makes a sour face. For the uninitiated, pony ale tastes like strong bitter ginger beer with week old grass clippings. An acquired taste. A taste I have acquired after several thousand samplings. Draco recites the rules. “No rank. No titles. No formalities. If you fight, you pay for the damage.” The new pinhead looks around. He's interested in the old crap on the walls. He likes looking at the group pictures, the comradery. Do you miss it, pony? Or, have you ever been part of it? Dead faces stare back at him.  Lots of forgotten lore here. He twitches his tail, doesn't like his butt to the door. He’s had some training in awareness. There is hope for this one. But look at his eyes, not the wide eyed innocence of a rookie. No, not this one. He has the thousand furlong stare of the wounded. I’ve seen that look a hundred times here. But not on one so young. Damn my own eyes, I hate seeing it. Damaged by war or trauma so soon in your life? He looks around, but he looks quickly past me. Why? Not out of politeness. He flattened his ears when he saw me. I reason, his coat is grey but well brushed. His mark, that can't be original. Too detailed to be an original cutie mark. Five flowers, then seven flowers, then five again over three leaves; all in a circle. Changed by Luna? Why? Evidence so required. Polished coat, improved mark, can't make eye contact with a mule. Colour grey like a mule. Bastard! Literally a bastard. They called you that growing up didn't they, pony. Mule equals bastard in the vernacular of the flightless and magic-less. I know that sting well. If you had family they would have explained it to you and the word wouldn't have bothered you and you could look at me. Why would Luna want you? I know the answer even before I ask. Orphan bastards make the best warriors don't they? Don't we! Indispensable yet disposable. An army of us, undefeatable. I recognize that mark now, thanks to my travels as a youth. It’s from the princess tree, a silvery-grey wood. Representing a high rank of the ancient government of the East. Again Why? Luna brought you up from nothing. To be a weapon? To wave a proverbial carrot in front of you at the right moment? Will Luna’s training make a monster of you? If I slit your throat from ear to ear later in the alley tonight how many lives will I save? My scent is on my blade. Luna will track me down and my hide will flap in the wind for meddling in her affairs. It's not all sunshine and rainbows for those that work behind the scenes in the magical land of Equestria.  Princess Celestia, are you reading this? Is this diary-slate my confessional? I must erase the last paragraph somehow. He walks around, drinking in the history. If the Royal Canterlot Museum Society only knew what was here. War relics, bizarre trophies from forgotten campaigns. Shields signed by lost platoons. Regimental plaques of long forgotten troops. Meaningless flags covered in the dust of time. Sarge and a new gang of rookies crash through the swinging doors. This is how fresh graduates typically act. In awe of the fabled place they heard about ever since starting at the Academy. The band gets their drinks and sits at a big round table. Considering the time of year and the fresh faces, I'd say they're here to scope out their after grad party. Another raucous night of noise, over-indulgence. Toasting each other with Draco’s fire water. At least there will be fresh sawdust on the floor come Monday after they shovel out the vomit soaked remnants. The new pinhead continues to look around but he drifts closer to the group. He has an ear turned to the table. Why doesn’t he join his fellow grads? It’s as if they don’t know each other or the grey’s been outcast. The clique gives him the cold shoulder except for Sarge, the nice. He invites Pinhead to join them. Introductions, manure, manure etc. The black pegasus is Shadow Mark. A light blue earth pony is Tug Boat. Another earth pony, Box Top. Obvious unicorn twins, with mismatched mane and coat colours. Stony Plain, male and sister, Spruce Grove. The grey calls himself Grey. Good name for a mule. He asks, “The bartender said no titles?” Sarge answers, “Ha ha, they hate it. Me upsetting the ancient rights with my name. My cutie mark, three stripes now take that Draco and Draco Jr., whichever is which. Tradition! When tradition is said, we toast!” Sarge slams his mug down on the table without spilling a drop. The young ones try to imitate him but they’re clumsy with their big tankards. I also follow the ritual and drink to tradition. Sarge asks, “What brings you to the Warriors’ Tavern tonight, lad?” “Luna sent me for the experience and probably to make some friends.” Stony Plain asks, “Who are you? Are you from a FOB?” “I'm not too sure what a fob is. My training is probably different from yours.” Wrong answer, intruder! Ho oh, there's gonna be a fight! The group sit in stunned silence trying to process something so bizarre as a guard pony that doesn't know what a Forward Operating Base is. In fact, being fresh out of the Academy, they are hyper-vigilant. The kids push themselves away from the table, scraping chair legs on the floor, and take their fighting stances; ready to attack the world’s worst spy. Seriously, an infiltrator would know a guard pony’s job better than a bunch of grads. The spy is not the life of the party or the one who wins every card game like in those Daring Do novels. The agent is the one that is so dreary he's invisible. How many times have I played the janitor leaning on my broom pretending to be asleep while taking in everything with my big ears? It's called ‘going grey’, another funny coincidence of the night. Pinhead pulls his ears back. “I am Pr… I am Luna's Everfree Forest guard pony.” Shadow Mark’s tone is harsh, “No such thing. I've never seen you around Canterlot, let alone the Academy. What class did you graduate in?” “Sigh, I didn't. It's a long story.” “That's what we like, long stories and drink!” Sarge is still in his chair and eager to throw back a few pints, as always. He's been waiting all week for his ale. Like most sergeants, he's also an instructor and will let the group reason things out. Stony Plain continues to interrogate, “How can you be a guard if you didn't graduate from the Guard?” “Luna gave me a series of challenges then knighted me. It does sound unbelievable as I say it.” “That wasn't a long story.” Sarge corrects, looking at his ale. Spruce Grove is more curious, “You live in a palace in the Everfree Forest?” “No, I live outside. I guard the palace from the outside.” Stony Plain remains sceptical, “I call bull manure. He's not a knight or a guard. He didn't graduate from the academy. Nothing normal can live in the Everfree Forest. He's trying to infiltrate us and the Guard.” “Now, now.” Sarge calms the group, “He got through the doors security spell. No civilian or undergrad can walk in here, let alone find the place.” He motions the group to sit. The one called Tug Boat is dismayed, “Ya mean he got knighted without having to attend all those endless lectures and brutal exams?” “What did you study, me son?” Sarge asks. “I studied the books Luna loaned me. I learned the forms Luna and others taught me. And I guess I passed enough of her challenges. She's very big on challenges.” “Maybe he's a Boy Scout?” Shadow Mark tests. “What does that mean? I could never afford to join.” Sarge answers, “It means ‘goody four shoes’. He's implying you kissed Luna's flank to get knighted.” “I can't imagine that ever working. She strongly dislikes the smallest of requests. Luna has made it abundantly clear that I need to work for everything I gain.” “Is that why you live outside? You have to earn the right to sleep indoors?” Tug Boat offers. “I vowed to guard her palace always, day and night. I can't be lazy or phoney when the Manticore is in a bad mood.” “Oh! Luna has a pet Manticore? Can I see it sometime?” Spruce Grove asks. He squirms. “No, no. This is how rumours get started.” Sarge pulls Pinhead aside. The newbie’s education is about to be enhanced. He is going to hear the secret of the Guard. “Listen up, me son. All the real learnin’ begins after you graduate. You’ve heard by now, the phrase, those who stand. It’s what us Guard Ponies do. It sounds simple enough. Wonderbolts mock us about it but only because they can’t do it. They have the attention span of a housefly. When the time comes, you stand your ground. You stand between your princess or your charge and danger. That’s it.” Sarge turns back to the table. “Which one of you lot can tell our new friend our purpose?” Spruce Grove, the clever looking unicorn answers. “To protect the borders and citizens of Equestria. To keep the peace and maintain the harmony and stability of the Equestrian way of life.” “Clever lass. Now tell me, what is the difference between the Equestrian Guard and Her Princesses' Royal Guard?” “The Royal Guard is a special detachment within the Equestrian Guard. The primary duty of the Royal Guard is to directly guard the Princesses in addition to guarding Equestria itself.”   “Guard the Princesses from what?” Sarge wipes his chin with his fetlock and waves for another ale. The unicorn has lost some of her confidence. “Personal attacks, monsters, dragons. Assassination attempts from traitors or foreign invasions.” “An Alicorn is troubled by neither dragons nor daggers. You lot will stand between your princess and harm. Attacks will come when least expected, say when she is in deep conversation with a visiting dignitary. That will give her time to assess the situation and react. When your time comes, and it will come for every one of you, you are a stopgap. Each of you will face a real threat in your career. Your mettle will be tested in the real world. And if you fall asleep on duty, you'll wake up with your legs missing and the princess looking down at you waiting for an explanation. Not to worry, Grads, whenever something big threatens Equestria, those six hero mares show up and save the day. Celestia bless them. Our job is more crowd control. And don't raise your snout to that. Ponies are not at the top of the food chain, as they say. We're a herd species and evolved being prey. Civilians panic at the drop of a hat or the sound of a braking glass. They stampede towards danger. They hide under parasols. They go fetal position in the middle of the road. We must get them out of harm’s way. Do you have anything to add, me son?” “Anticipation,” the grey includes. “Luna says I need to anticipate her needs. I don't know how yet, but that's what she said. When in doubt, I offer tea. Luna has never objected to that.” “For Celestia, it's cake and sweets, but everypony knows that.” The band is no longer anxious. Their ears are no longer flattened. Fighting positions collapse and muscles relax. They’ve taken their seats and breathing returns to normal. The conversation takes a different turn. Box Top raises his eyebrows, “Did you guys see Luna in that little white tennis outfit last week? Huba huba. I've never thought about older mares before but that was hot.” Spruce Grove has her confidence back. “You guys are unbelievable. First of all, Luna is co-ruler of Equestria. Our princess, our co-commander. The mere thought is so incredibly unprofessional.” Yet, she has a smile at the corner of her mouth. Tug Boat adds, “Isn’t Luna older than Canterlot? You guys are weird.” Sarge explains the exchange to Pinhead, “This is the room of no rules, no rank. Free discussion about our calling and our missions. The drink helps relax and free the tongue. This is where we can express our feelings about our jobs away from the earshot of the public. You understand that we do not speak like this beyond this room. What do you say, Grey, would you ask Luna out on a date?” He shakes his mane in disbelief, “She would either explode me on the spot or laugh at me every time she saw me.” “Ha, ha. You’re exaggerating after only a half pint of ale. Luna is back and she is so sweet and relaxed and professional. The sisters rule Equestria as it was meant to be and all is right in the world.” Sarge sips his fresh ale. “I think Luna's palace is her retreat from Canterlot. She kinda resented me at first. Is it okay to say that?” “It is here, me son. Feels good don't it. When friends and family don't get us, we have our comrades and The Draco Tavern.” “I'm going to miss the barracks and my poster.” Box Top sighs. “Why don't you just marry that poster?” Spruce Grove teases. “I would if I could. I don't think she'll survive me unpeeling her from the wall. I think wonder glue is magic proof. I can't find another anywhere. Not even in the old shops.” Spruce Grove adds, “She's gone from being a fashion supermodel to one of the Heroes of Equestria. It was never appropriate.”   Why did the grey’s ears perk? Shadow Mark states, “I won't miss the co-ed dorm. And having to be prim and proper for the mares all the time.” Spruce Grove taps her hoof on the table, “You guys were never proper and you learned very few manners in dorm life. And I will certainly not miss your nocturnal noises.” Sarge chuckles at the banter. “Do you have a girlfriend, Grey?” “Yes, and I miss her terribly when we're apart.” “Ha! Wonderful. How did you meet?” “Seriously, it took all of Luna's power to get us to dance. Does Celestia keep you on the edges of your hooves all the time?” “I'm not too sure what you mean, me son. We have to be ready for anything while on duty.” The grey sighs, “I guess I just feel like I’m on duty all the time. Maybe that’s why I was sent here.” The ever vigilant Shadow Mark whispers, “Sarge, can I ask about the elephant in the room?” The youngsters look around. The unit doesn't get the metaphor. Here it comes. “I mean, you know.” He murmurs, “The mule.” I can hear you, Shadow Mark. My big ears aren’t just for my good looks. Sarge gives a stern reply, “What did I say about those who can enter Draco's? That one is here as often as I am. I've never seen him outside of this room but I have seen him in his spot for years. A mule prefers his solitude. He's as much a part of the guard as any that have walked through the door.” Grey offers, “Sarge, you were kind enough to ask me to join you. Why not invite him over?” “Oh I have, in the past but we gallop in different circles. Mules and ponies are very different.” There they sit. At the beginning of their career; the journey of their generation. Comrades for life. They have heard the call of the warrior and have answered it knowing full well the highs and lows it will bring them. What I wouldn't give to be young and part of the herd. Look how easy it was for them to make a new friend of the grey even after suspecting him of treachery. Dear Princess Celestia: I thank you for attending my retirement. Your gratitude and genuine smile to me made my miserable existence almost worthwhile. If I could die in my only happy place right now… What? The Pinhead was talking about friendship while I was wallowing in self-pity and loneliness. The troop has pulled up a table and chairs next to mine. They continue to talk as if I wasn't here. They will let me join in the conversation on my terms. This is truly my comfortable corner. /]*[\ Grey walked out of the Everfree Forest on the road to Ponyville. Rainbow Dash was waiting for him on the path. She wore a big grin. “Hello Dragon Kicker. Can I, help you?” “You were there, weren't you? The Warriors’ Tavern. What's it like? How'd you get in? Password, secret knock?” “I can't tell you.” Even if I knew. “Let's train! You and me. Like you and Pinkie did.” “You've never been interested in my training. There weren't any Wonderbolts at Draco’s if that's what you want to know. But they do have a table painted in the Wonderbolt colours.” “I'm not interested in that. Let's train. Same rules as you and Pinkie. All I have to do is knock you over, right.” “I'm meeting Fluttershy for a picnic lunch.” “I know. I was just there. So the rule is all I have to do is knock you over and I win!” “Okay,” he sighed. The wicked pony voice in Grey's head said, Call her a housefly and let's see what she does. Rainbow Dash soared into the sky and pivoted on a wingtip. Grey dug his right hooves forward keeping his left legs straight. He lowered his head and watched for Rainbow Dash through his eyebrows. Grey resembled a bull about to charge except for the pony face. Rainbow Dash dove at her target, keeping her wings tucked close to gain speed. Her mane and tail whip in the wind. She saw that Grey had dug in and is not going to move. Rainbow Dash pulled up at the last moment and swooped by him whipping Grey with wind. “Hey! If I hit you I'd get hurt myself. That's not what Pinkie did.” “Fine, it's not a game of chicken, although I would have won that round,” smirked Grey. Grey trotted to a tree stump and stood proud, forehoof raised like a statue. Rainbow Dash flew high and tucked her wings in. She let gravity take over and pivoted on her rear hoof and dove. Dash pulled up at the last second and settled on a cushion of compressed air under her. Her momentum and ground effects did all the work as she aimed for his legs to get under him and lift him over. Grey spread his legs at the last second and dropped down over the stump. “Are you intentionally trying to hurt me?” She gripped him and tried to fly off with the earth pony. “Your flapping is just pushing down on the stump you're trying to lift, housefly.” /]*[\ Grey walked into the bunny pasture with Rainbow Dash standing on his head. He brushed his mane with his fetlock and she flew enough to let Grey's foreleg go by. Fluttershy was laying on a checkered blanket in the shade of a tree darning little socks. “Fluttershy,” Grey whined, “There is a vulture on my head.” Rainbow Dash stared upside down at him. Fluttershy looked up, “I'm sorry, but you've done something to upset her. I think you need to apologize, if that's all right.” “But I won. I beat her at her own game. I finally won one.” “I'm sorry, but that's still unacceptable. My oldest and dearest friend is upset and you really need to apologize.” Don't fight it. You’ve already learned this lesson. “Rainbow Dash, I would like to apologize for… well, I'm sorry.” “Ha! That's better. Wonderbolts can't be beat.” Rainbow Dash crossed her forelegs, nodded and flashed out of site. Fluttershy went back to her sewing. “You see, all is right with the world again.” “I'm sorry, Fluttershy, I'm a slow learner. Thank you for being patient. What are you making?” “Booties for the doggies this winter. That reminds me, Grey, I'm feeling a little chill.” “Oh, I can run to your place and be back in five minutes with a blanket.” “I'm sorry, but that's not what a girl means when she says she's cold.” Fluttershy shuffled closer to Grey. “Oh,” He snuggled next to her. “Can I tell you about my day? I'll do it without being boastful.” Fluttershy smiled, “Well, if you promise.” “Today, a Wonderbolt wanted to work with me. Me! We trained together then I snuggled with a very pretty pony. Now, tell me about your day. Why do dogs need boots?” “It's not for the cold. It's for protection from the sharp ice. It can cut their soft paw pads.” “Oh, I forgot to add. I found out about another of your old fashion posters. The owner seems nice. It probably won’t survive being removed from the dorm wall. And I know you don’t want it to remain in an Academy dorm room. I also know that once I tell you where it is, it will be magically, or Rainbow Dash-ally be destroyed." “Fluttershy, I have a favour to ask and it involves a scary word.” She froze. “I met a sergeant with the Guard the other day and he's under the impression that Ponyville forgot about what happened to three Royal Guard Pegasi when Nightmare Moon attacked.” Fluttershy squeaked and hid behind her mane. “As far as they can tell, Nightmare Moon was powering up a magical spell to destroy everypony in the town hall when Celestia's pegasi guards attacked. They didn't get to go home, as we say. Their sacrifice gave time for ponies to escape and Twilight Sparkle to confront Nightmare Moon. I want to make it right and I still feel terrible for sleeping through it all. I was thinking on the way over here that the town could plant trees in their honour. Or maybe there is a pegasi tradition. What do you think?” Her mane nodded, “Trees sound nice. You can talk to the mayor, if that's all right.” “How about if we do it together? I had a bad experience in the mayor’s office once and I’m still a little bit nervous around her.” Fluttershy chided, “You’re afraid of the mayor of Ponyville but not Nightmare Moon? Who's a silly pony?”