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Be a Guard!

Author's Note:

Welcome back after 2 years!

Hope you'll like this and future chapters, when I'll try and contuie with bi-daily updates :3

After the first week at boot camp, Chip found himself trapped in a rather dull routine. It reminded him of the life in his former hive - days seemed to merge together, becoming formless blobs of time spent on training and eating. Even the lectures, which he was looking forward to each day, became unbearably boring. The pace was sluggish and the teacher kept repeating the same bits of information over and over, as if learning could be achieved by rubbing knowledge against one’s face long enough.

The only thing keeping him afloat were the private sessions with Shining Armor - while his style of teaching wasn’t particularly coherent or rich, the changeling enjoyed listening about pony history, the customs and rules in their society. The equine was also keeping up a reasonable pace - unlike his other teachers, he had to cover a lot of things in a much smaller amount of time.

“Are you sure you got all that?” asked the captain, looking at his student with unease. He knew that this particular stallion was special, and he trusted Celestia when she said the future soldier was a prodigy. Still, the pace at which they kept exploring Equestria’s history and the silence of the red-coated giant filled him with a tiny bit of doubt. “I mean, if you have any questions, I’d rather you ask now than fail later,” he finished, eying the colt.

Chip cocked his head. “Should I have any questions, sir?” he asked, uncertain of what the guard wanted of him. All this time he smelled the bother in him, thinking hard how to counteract it. The changeling was certain he could repeat almost word for word this and the previous lessons - like with his books, he had a way to make himself remember important bits of information instead of letting them fade out like most of the day to day noise. After all, a regular bug’s mind was pretty vacant, and his unique spark had all that space to work with…

“No. I mean, yes...maybe,” stammered Shining, sighing. “I just have the impression you’re not really paying attention.” He rubbed his eyes. These extra activities put an annoying irregularity in his daily routine, an additional stress point on top of the looming wedding ceremony he hasn’t even started preparing for. The stallion cleared his throat and looked the red colt straight in the eye. “Okay, pop quiz. Date of the first Griphon Conflict?”

Not this again, thought Chip with a groan. He had it with pop quizzes and tests. Apparently it was common practice in pony society to not trust the student and assume he didn’t pay attention to the time the teachers spent to share their knowledge. What sane person would do that? Nonetheless, if the pony really needed this, he would comply.

“Officially started and ended on 345 Anno Deae, but the conflict went on as a cold war for three more years”

“What was the name of the leader of the Sea Dragon Bay Buccaneers?”

“Candy Flush, and he was also the admiral in the first mercenary fleet of Equestria, The Jolly Plunderers.”

“What is Princess Celestia’s favorite food?”

Chip smirked, stifling a giggle. “Chocolate cake,” he chirped.

The so far content Shining Armor suddenly furrowed his brows and frowned. “No, it’s banana slices with slim vanilla and dark chocolate cream, topped with a cherry. See, this is all too fast for you.”

It was Chip’s turn to look surprised. “What? I’m pretty certain she loves chocolate cake the most.” Seeing his superior’s features darken even further, he bit his tongue, continuing with a sigh: “Right. Okay, I got one answer wrong. So what? You can ask my teachers, this would be the first thing I ever remembered wrong. Sir.” Even if I didn’t, he thought to himself.

The captain slowly turned around, looking at the fire. “That’s not good enough, Redberry. You need to be perfect.” He glanced at his student briefly. “Or rather, I won’t put my signature under anything less than perfect. Do you even know what you are trying to do?” The stallion turned his gaze sideways, where many paintings of well known historical figures hung.

The changeling followed his gaze, recognizing the first top row of olden heroes from the brief descriptions of his lecturers and Armor. There were three other sets of paintings that he had no clue about.

“You see, if it were just the guard, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Even the elite royal guards, as you can see, let a few bolts and nuts shake loose,” continued the stallion, absent-mindedly staring at the historical figures. “In the service, we are all aware we are just mortals, designated to safeguard our goddesses so that they don’t have to deal with the mundane and unimportant. We pick out the most promising - the smartest, the strongest, hell, even the wise-asses who skim by on confidence alone. But the special forces?” The captain turned around, slowly walking towards the fake pony as he continued: “They don’t officially exist. They are off the record and only the Princesses know how they are chosen. There isn’t a single file on them, their actions or contributions to anything. All I really know is, the Princess wants and expects you to be above and beyond anything the royal guard boot camp can teach you. You must be stronger, faster, smarter and more versed in virtually everything than...well, even me,” sighed Shining, shaking his head. He sat in front of the recruit, staring at his amused face. “Do you understand that? All this, something that I personally worked hard on for years, has to be put into your head and body in less than 3 weeks,” he said, accenting his words heavily.

On his side, Chip didn’t really see the issue. In fact, if what the captain said was true, they were wasting precious time now by explaining to him what he already knew.

“Sir, with all due respect, I do understand. I’m terribly sorry I upset you with my wrong answer. I promise that it will never happen again and that I’ll do more than just my best.”

Shining smirked weakly, putting a hoof to his snout and rubbing it. “Yeah, I know. Don’t get me wrong kid - from my point of view, you’re the best damn soldier I had the pleasure to train, and don’t you forget it. I’m really proud of you, recruit,” he smiled, nudging the changeling’s shoulder lightly. “I guess that it’s just really stressing for me as well. If you’re not prepared enough, I would be letting the Princess down, you know? And the worst part is, I can only do so much with the time we have. Keeping up an act, having to study up on everything myself as well, along with some private stuff in my life as well...”

Chip felt uneasy. He grasped the basics of compassion, but he didn’t know how it all worked in a captain-recruit relationship. He wished he could feel it better, since all his rational thoughts on the subject usually ended with him having trouble over it. With a bit of hesitance, he smiled at the pony.

“I understand, sir. You’re doing a great job. Together, I’m sure we’ll make the Princess proud. I wouldn’t have chosen a better captain myself if I could, Captain Shining Armor, sir” he declared, bolstering himself with lines from a dramatic war novel he read way back when. It seemed to have worked, as the aura around the stallion got tinted with some hope and purpose.

“Thanks, Redberry. I wouldn’t have chosen a finer student either,” he smirked, sighing sharply and picking himself up. “Alright. We wasted enough time as it is. Think we can double-time it and get to Colonel Bluesnout’s valiant last stand before midnight?”

* * *

“You came back to the barracks pretty late yesterday. Captain Shining giving you more flak than usual?” asked Butterscotch, moving along in the line for some nutritious breakfast of undisclosed origin.

“Nah, I’m fine. Sorry I woke you up,” replied Chip, reluctantly presenting his bowl to the burly cook. The stallion had the most bored expression stuck on his face, his hoof mechanically dipping a large spoon in a giant, bubbling kettle and depositing the muddy substance in front of him. The changeling noticed before that if you weren’t fast enough with the plate, you ended up with half a ration, or even no food at all.

“Oh no, you didn’t! I guess I was just worried, hehe. I just, uh, have trouble falling asleep,” he stuttered, swiftly skitting his plate under the cook’s hoof before his food got dumped on the counter.

The smell of confusion and something sweeter wafted from the skittish pegasus, but Chip was too preoccupied with his thoughts to give it any further mind. He had to think up a plan to cram even more knowledge into his head and actually exercise for once. All the activities the ponies partook in were hardly straining for a changeling of his build, and he was certain that he’d either need weighs on his back to feel any strain, or spend a lot more time jumping hoops or climbing ropes to actually gain any muscle.

“A change of diet could also help,” he muttered, observing with mild amusement as his spoon, despite being at least a foot away from the plate, was still connected with the main mass of the muddy food through a thick, solid strand.

* * *

The changeling was working harder than ever before to at least warm up his muscles, but to no avail. No amount of running, climbing, jumping or pushing up could make him break a sweat. Back at the hive things were simpler - you pushed a rock, tackled a boulder or wrestled gravel. When you were tired or squished enough, you stopped and called it a day. Simple and efficient.

“C’mon everypony, pick up the pace! Even Redberry here is keeping up with me!” shouted Shining Armor, bringing Chip back to reality. Without realizing it, the fake pony pushed on ahead of the group, with the captain panting by his side. He immediately slowed down, much to the relief of his superior who had droplets of sweat running down his muzzle.

“Why didn’t you say this was a breeze for you?” hissed Shining, glancing back at the recruits who only now were catching up. “If you’re a lot stronger than this, get some weigh straps from the requisition office, on my authority. I don’t know how you do it, but you can’t be running ahead of me like that - it would lower morale and raise suspicion.”

“Sorry, sir,” mouthed the changeling, finally merging into his panting group. He found Butterscotch at the very back, out of breath and red all over his face. The pegasus smiled meekly, still bravely trotting onward.

“Wow,” he coughed, lowering his voice, “you got some steam in ya, buddy. I think you even gave the, heh, captain a run for his money.”

All Chip could do was reply with a smile and continue running.

* * *

The changeling managed to slip out after dinner without anypony noticing. It was a feat to lose Butterscotch, who seemed to follow him around almost everywhere, but even the persistent stallion was no match for the stealthy capabilities of a seasoned predator. Or, at least, for the shapeshifting capabilities of one.

After the green flames around his body burned down his temporary disguise, Redberry trotted into the small requisition office. It consisted of a grated window behind which a bored blue pony wearing a uniform sat, a ceiling light and a plain chair. With confidence, the changeling approached the officer, putting his hooves against the glass.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” he asked, pressing his face against the cold surface. The stallion on the other side gave him a disgruntled look, opening a small gap at the bottom of the window.

“What do you want, recruit? You’re way too early in your training to even be here,” snorted the guard.

Chip raised a brow, sliding his snout down to the opening and pushing it in. “I was sent here by Captain Shining Armor to get some training weighs, sir,”

The guard was getting more irate at the newbie’s shenanigans. He gave the muzzle poking onto his side of the glass a shove and started rummaging through a stack of papers. He retrieved a form with a note attached to it stating that, indeed, a stallion by the name of Redberry was to be handed whatever size training weighs he desired. It was marked with a red highlighter as extremely important, much to the surprise of the officer.

“What was your name again, trainee?”

* * *

“Too light,” stated Chip for what was probably the eleventh time. The changeling felt the guard’s rising frustration and anger with each returned set of heavier weights. He felt kinda guilty about giving the poor soul a hard time, but his mission was way more important than the comfort of a single soldier. He had to find training gear that would challenge his body into growth, waking up from a way too long state of stagnation.

The irate officer cast the heavy bags aside onto a growing pile, going to the back to fetch some more. These goddamn cadets, he thought to himself, furiously stomping down the aisle with punching bags and soft helmets, think they’re so much better than a seasoned veteran! I’ve served at the southern bastions, goddamit! I didn’t get a promotion like this to sit around and pamper to some yellow belly who thinks he can carry his own weight in sand-bags!

The stallion stopped at the nearly empty shelves where training weights were. He looked over the black pouches, silently muttering to himself. “10, 15, 20...nope. Oh, it’s too light, I managed to take two steps in it, ne ne ne ne nenene.” He sighed in frustration. He was supposed to be somepony important here, handing out gear to real guards, maintaining equipment, keeping accurate record of inventory! He would not go back for the thirteenth time to fetch this newbie his bags.

Chip smiled dopily at the returning stallion, who was dragging behind him another set of straps that could weigh down his hooves and back. The feeling of being sorry intensified as he felt the tang of hatred in the pony’s mood - an emotion changelings naturally avoided. He decided that he’d just accept the weights, thank the officer profusely and come back another day, when he’d be in a better mood.

With a strained “oomph” the servicepony slid the straps to Chip, giving him a deep frown. “These are the heaviest we got. In my life, I’ve only seen a couple stallions carry that weight. I’d be really surprised if you could even do a push-up in those,” he hissed through grit teeth, impatiently tapping his hoof while the changeling strapped on.

This was more like it. The fake pony took a few steps in his new gear, the force of gravity viciously pulling against his flexing muscles. He dropped on his belly and did a couple push-ups, causing the other guard’s jaw to hang agape in wordless amazement. He didn’t look at the mass, but he could tell it was more or less at least as heavy as his bulky changeling carapace. He shot the stunned pony a wide grin and bowed.

“Thank you for bearing with me, sir. These are excellent. I will make it a point to relay how helpful you were to the Captain. I wish you a nice day! Sir!” he said, saluting briefly before walking out on the still frozen in place officer.

* * *

Walking back to the camp was pleasantly hard. The black pouches stuck to his skin like glue, the one on the back making every effort to break the changeling’s spine. He hadn’t felt so good in a long time - he totally forgot the simple joys of changeling life. I mean, this isn’t rock-quality fun here, but at least I’ll start feeling tired as much as the next guy, he mused, trotting a short distance, relishing in the warmth the setting sun lay upon his straining muscles.

“This is where the real training begins, my Princess!” he whispered to himself, standing at attention and facing one of the many Canterlot Castle’s towers. “I promise I’ll make you, Captain Shining Armor...and Twilight Sparkle, proud!”

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