//------------------------------// // It’ll Probably Be Okay // Story: Nock One Up // by Pony with a Pen //------------------------------// “So, you watch the hoofball game last night?” “No. I find the sport to be repugnant and vapid.” “Oh,” Captain Bronze Lance said. He was having a rough week. After being grilled by the Royal Sisters about bachelors in the Royal Guard—which was quite possibly the most awkward conversation he had ever had—the Princesses went missing, which sent the palace guards into a panic. One moment, they were having tea in one of the castle’s sitting rooms, and the next, they were gone. Nearly five dozen guards discreetly scoured the castle grounds all day, trying to prevent the inevitable hysteria that would break out if Their Highnesses disappeared. Hours later, in the middle of the night, the Two Sisters walked into the kitchen asking for a snack as if nothing had happened. The reports detailing that situation took Captain Lance hours to complete, and he made sure to bury them deep, deep within the castle’s archives. Once this week was over, he never wanted to talk about the incident again. But right now, he was awkwardly sitting beside Celestia’s Scheduling Advisor, Kibitz, waiting for the Princesses to arrive. “Do you think they’re running late? The scheduled time was five minutes ago.” Bronze said. Without turning his head, Kibitz dryly replied, “Captain, the Princesses are never ‘running late,’ other ponies are simply running early.” “Oh,” Bronze said, looking down at his hooves. It was unusual for Celestia and Luna to arrange meetings with such short notice, but usual days were few and far between lately. “Do you know why they called us to this meeting?” Bronze Lance asked idly, twiddling his hooves. “No,” Kibbitz said. “Any idea what it might be about?” “No,” Kibbitz repeated. “Not a single guess?” “No,” Kibitz curtly replied. “Oh,” Bronze sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we’re both in the dark.” “But the lights are on.” Captain Lance looked up at the ceiling to see that, in fact, the lights were on before explaining, “No, it’s an express—” “It was a joke,” Kibitz interrupted. “Oh.” Sitting beside this stallion was unbearable. Bronze Lance glanced around the room, noting the plush carpet, high ceilings, and worn furniture. This room saw plenty of use, but not often by normal ponies. Celestia’s office wasn’t necessarily off-limits to the castle staff, but most ponies recognized that this was one of her personal, private spaces. It was built, furnished, and maintained for her, by her, and everything in it catered to her tastes—clean, comfortable, and classy. Celestia had always considered the castle’s décor to be garish, so a few decades ago, she renovated this room into an office—without the castle staff’s knowledge. With her own hooves, she replaced the mahogany panel walls with simple wallpaper and sold the room’s exotic furniture to pay for a local artisan to refurnish the space. His pieces were works of art, but not the kind most ponies would put in a museum. Two wooden bookshelves engraved with blessings from a forgotten language stood against the opposite wall, and in front of them rested a well-worn standing desk covered with mementos. They were sturdy, plain pieces with smooth edges and naturalistic tones. Captain Bronze Lance quickly shifted his attention to the door behind him as he heard it softly creak open. “Hello, Captain, Kibitz,” Celestia said as she and Luna gracefully strode into the room. “Your Highnesses,” both stallions replied. Walking by them, Luna acknowledged the two seated ponies with a nod and went behind the desk with Celestia. “My apologies for not informing you about the nature of this meeting,” Celestia said as she positioned herself at the desk, “but I thought it would be best to explain the matter fully, rather than allowing room for misinterpretation and anxiety.” “A few matters have recently come to our attention,” Luna said as she looked down and shifted her weight, trying to acclimate herself to the floor’s unusually spongy carpeting. “They do not threaten the fate of Equestria, but they are of the utmost importance and must be addressed.” “Of course, Princess, how can we be of service?” Bronze Lance said. “Most of the burden will fall on us,” Celestia said somberly while Luna restrained herself from eye-rolling. “So, we must be able to dedicate more time towards ameliorating these issues.” “Your schedules are very tight Princess,” Kibitz replied. His face remained neutral—as it always seemed to be—but his eyes empathized with the gravity of the Princesses’ situation. “Due to the importance of these issues, I believe I can pencil in… one hour every other day for this.” “Thank you, Kibitz,” Celestia said with a short-lived smile, “but I fear that won’t be enough.” “I see. Then, if we shorten your daily exercise session we can—” “Actually, Kibitz,” Luna interrupted, “Celestia and I have already decided what must be done to afford ourselves the necessary time.” Kibitz tilted his head in surprise. “Then please, Your Majesties, inform me so that I may effect the changes immediately.” Celestia opened a folder on her desk and levitated it down to Kibitz, who curiously read over its contents as Celestia paraphrased them aloud. “From now on, the Royal Court will only convene once every two weeks. Instead of allowing anyone to immediately petition us, cases will be taken to local courts first, and when necessary, Luna and I will hear cases that the smaller courts are unfit to handle.” Sitting back in his seat and sputtering softly, Kibitz said, “Princesses, without your guidance—” “Ponies will have to resolve their own conflicts, yes,” Luna said. “Equestria is no longer young; it should be able to make fair and just decisions without us. We are not needed to solve every dispute.” “Nor are we needed for every trade agreement,” Celestia added. “Cadence, Shining Armor, Blueblood, and Twilight will be given the responsibilities of maintaining Equestria’s trade and relations.” Kibitz hurriedly looked down at the folder and quietly gasped when he saw that Celestia meant what she said. Together, the four young royals would be deciding on many of the diplomatic and commerce-related issues in Equestria. While he scanned the page for any more surprises, Celestia resumed speaking, snapping Kibitz back from his thoughts. “Placing these responsibilities in capable hooves will help us tremendously, but we expect you to delegate other tasks whenever possible, Kibitz.” The stallion being addressed nodded dumbly in response, unsure of what else to do. “Also, please be aware that Luna and I will no longer be on schedules.” A vacant, blank look overtook Kibitz’s face—a look far less stoic than his usual, unemotional appearance—as sweat slowly dripped down his forehead. “We will still both be awake to raise the sun and moon,” Luna said. “But except for our appointments between those times, we will often be unavailable or absent from the castle.” “Anything else, Your Highnesses?” Kibitz whispered hoarsely. When the Princesses shook their heads in response, Captain glanced over to Kibitz. The poor stallion was trembling in his chair and about two minutes away from an anxiety attack. “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, is there anything the Royal Guard can do to assist you during this time?” Captain Lance asked uncertainly. As she turned towards the Royal Guard captain, Celestia opened her mouth to reply but stopped herself to smile warmly at him first. “Yes, Captain, there is. You and your guards will be an immense help to us. Everything you need to know is in the right pocket of the folder,” she said while gesturing with a hoof. Gingerly bending the folder Kibitz held numbly in his magical grasp, Bronze pulled out the papers and flipped through them. Most of the pages were dedicated to an extensive duty roster, but a few of them detailed amended procedures and rules. Luna peered down at the stallion as he glossed over the pages of rules, regulations, and rosters. Somewhat impatiently, she said, “I’m certain you’ll be able to implement that duty roster within a few days, Captain, and the changes to procedure are minor. So, unless you or Kibitz have any questions, I believe we can bring this meeting to a close.” “I agree, Your Majesty. Everything will be taken care of. Please, excuse me.” Bronze Lance rose from his seat, bowed, and quietly left the room while Kibitz followed behind shakily. As he shut the door behind him, Kibitz hastily recalled his manners and stuck his head through the doorway to perform an awkward bow before dashing towards the nearest bathroom. After the stallions were gone and the sound of their hoofsteps faded from the air, Luna rolled her eyes and let out a long breath. “Seriously, what the hay is wrong with Kibitz? He looked like he might have vomited if we didn’t dismiss him when we did.” Celestia’s lips curled upwards as she thought about her assistant’s myriad of charming quirks. “Kibitz has dedicated his organizational skills, as well as his entire life, to serving the Crown. I trust him completely to make the best use of my time, and I wouldn’t give him such control over my schedule if I didn’t. Suddenly taking back that control must be very shocking for him.” “I didn’t get that impression at all,” Luna replied sarcastically. “He’ll probably be huddled over the toilet for an hour,” Celestia said with a smirk, “but then he’ll do exactly as we asked of him, and he’ll do it with nothing short of excellence. You’ll see.” “Yeah, I’ll see the puke stains on the rug leading down the hallway,” Luna joked. Well, partially joked. With a mug of coffee in his hoof and the dull buzz of ponies working outside in his ear, Captain Bronze Lance read over the papers the Princesses had given him. Their meeting earlier that day was too anxiety-ridden for proper reading, and the atmosphere in his office was altogether less stressful. Replacing Shining Armor’s position as Captain of the Royal Guard already took its toll on a pony. That stallion—that crazy, workaholic, Princess-marrying stallion—somehow did the work of four guard captains and made it look easy. When he first accepted the position, Bronze Lance tried to do the work of four guard captains, but now he has to visit the cardiologist four times a month. More stress was the last thing Bronze needed. Looking over the various documents and orders, however, made it apparent that Their Highnesses weren’t interested in whether or not he could use the stress. Nearly everypony in Canterlot had been reassigned to a different position within the city, and was expected to begin their new role and shift within two days. This, while not necessarily preferable to the ponies who were being reassigned—which, granted, was all of them—was at least an excellent opportunity for cross-training. Optimism didn’t make the situation any less of a nightmare, though. From what he could tell, the Princesses’ revision of the duty roster didn’t cause any security gaps, but it wasn’t exactly… sensible. A squad composed entirely of spear-wielding earth ponies held a shift on the castle walls. One of the most combat-experienced sergeants would be patrolling the library. And to top it off, it looked like the rookie would be assigned to Celestia and Luna’s personal guard detail. That didn’t seem like the best idea. Well, none of them did, but the last one in particular. Assigning an inexperienced guard to the kingdom’s most important position was unthinkable. The rest of the guards were all top-notch, this is true, but if anything, that made the weakest link in the chain that much weaker. Veterans on his shift were going to eat him alive if they got the chance, and the only way they wouldn’t get that chance is if Private Long Arrow somehow managed to avoid royally screwing up. Bronze set his empty mug down with a sigh and trotted over to the filing cabinet. He had heard about how well Long Arrow had done in the academy, but perhaps it was time to go over his file again. Before accepting the stallion into the palace guard, Bronze Lance had skimmed through Arrow’s file, but it hadn’t caught his attention. What caught his attention were the recommendations that accompanied it. Academy instructors often gave recommendations to graduates, normally to an outpost or base. Recommendation for a position in Canterlot was considered an honor; recommendation for a position in Canterlot castle was an implausibility. Shuffling through the folders in the cabinet, Bronze’s hoof eventually hit the tab marked “Arrow, Long” and pulled the folder out. It was still thin—the mark of somepony who hasn’t done much or hasn’t been around very long. Only his basic file, recent transfer documents, report from the academy, and a copy of his graduation certificate were inside. After a brief glance, Bronze set the other documents aside and took a long look at the academy report. Though, perhaps it would have been more accurate to call it “Long Arrow’s List of Achievements.” Top marks in archery (not surprising, given his name), but also in ballista maintenance and use, hoof-to-hoof combat, and dogfighting. Instructors noted his exemplary performance in the monthly wargames on two separate occasions. He clocked the fastest airspeed of his class and the fourth fastest time during the cadets’ endurance run. How many steroids did this pony take? Captain Bronze Lance shook his head softly as he placed the papers back in their folder. Long Arrow was no meathead, that much was apparent, but a few months at the academy doesn’t prepare a pony for protecting the Princesses. Guarding the castle is one thing; it’s unlikely that you’ll cause a national crisis by stoically standing in place for six hours. Around the Royal Sisters, however… As he leaned against the cabinet, slipping the file back into its place, Bronze Lance banished the thought from his mind. Long Arrow was a perfectly capable stallion, and he was in a position that generally required little other than looking mildly imposing. In all likelihood, he would rarely ever see the Celestia or Luna, let alone interact with them. He would just stand silently, surrounded by dozens of other guards throughout the castle, watchfully overseeing their safety. He could handle it. He would be fine. Nothing bad will happen. Probably.