The interior of the recruitment center was just as spartan as its exterior, if not more so. At least the outside of the center had the surrounding towers spearing into the sky to draw the eye away from its austerity. Whoever had designed the place had apparently taken inspiration from the inside of a cinder block.
They had not bothered to install tile or carpeting, instead opting for a polished concrete that felt cool beneath Storm’s hooves. The walls were made of the same finished concrete, though they did have some manner of color. On the left wall the cutie mark of Princess Celestia was stenciled in blocks of orange and yellow; on the right Princess Luna’s waxing moon stood out from the wash of navy in which it was centered. There were no windows, so the only source of light was a single fluorescent lamp the length of the ceiling which cast everything in the room in pale chartreuse. In the center of the room stood a plain, wooden table with metal legs that was being used as a makeshift desk, three neat stacks of papers on one corner of it, and a plastic cup of pencils, many of which were covered in tooth marks, on another.
All of these details went unnoticed by Storm, however, as he found himself being harangued by the burly, white pegasus clad in golden armor standing behind the desk.
“ALRIGHT MAGGOT! WHAT MAKES A WORM LIKE YOU THINK YOU’VE GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO SERVE IN HER MAJESTY’S ROYAL GUARD?!”
The recruiter had been calling Storm a number of different insects and pests since he had stepped into the door. He thought that recruiters were supposed to sweet talk you into joining, and that the verbal assault would come during basic training. If this was how the armored pony treated visitors, Storm felt pity for whoever had to deliver the mail.
“To serve Equestria, and to see to it that its citizens are protected from any and all threats,” Storm answered sincerely, although listening to himself say it, it sounded a little canned. However, the beast of a pegasus across from him didn’t seem to think so, or at the least showed no indication otherwise. No, his face showed the same jaw-clenching intensity it had for the entire interview so far.
“GOOD ANSWER,” the pony barked, before biting sheets of paper from each of the stacks on the desk and sliding them towards Storm, “HOWEVER, WE DON’T JUST TAKE ANY GERM OFF THE STREET. WE PERFORM A SERIES OF THOROUGH EVALUATIONS TO ASSESS YOUR PSYCHOLOGICAL STABILITY AND MENTAL PROWESS. YOU’VE GOT THIRTY MINUTES TO FILL OUT THESE SHEETS, AND NOT A SECOND MORE. HOP TO IT, FLEA!”
Storm wondered to himself if the recruiter was capable of speaking at a volume below blaring, but he opted not to ask and to stay on his good side, or at least what he assumed was his good side. As easy as his voice was to hear, it was impossible to read. Taking one of the newer pencils from the cup on the desk, he nervously turned to the three papers sitting innocuously in front of him. He had done well in school and tended to get good marks on tests; however, his answers to the questions on the evaluation before him would determine the course of his career. They would decide whether his life would follow the path he had dreamed so often about, or if it would veer off into the banks. He looked at the top sheet, the psychological assessment, to see what moral quandary the first question would present.
Question 1: What is your name?
Storm balked. Did they really dedicate the first question to asking for his name? He, of course, wrote down his name. He then double checked the spelling, because one could never be too careful.
Question 2: Do you think bullying is wrong?
Not at all Not really Maybe A little Yes
Storm circled yes.
The questions continued in this vein, no more thought provoking than the first two. To Storm’s surprise, there was even an extra credit section that asked what he thought about the princesses. He never would have imagined there’d be a chance for bonus points on a psych evaluation, but he made sure to write the princesses a sparkling review.
Completing the first assessment, he pondered over whether or not it was some elaborate trick devised to probe its recipient through its simple queries. A profession that could use an ink stain to measure your body issues by whether you saw a tortoise or a turtle held too many mysteries for him. Setting the psychological test to the side, he looked at the two pages of the next evaluation. Seeing numbers and arithmetic symbols, he assumed that he might be given more of a challenge, or at least a challenge he could recognize, through some mathematical exercises: something to differentiate himself from other potential recruits. He looked at the first question.
Question 1: How many letters are in your name?
---
Even after double checking his answers and finding that yes, he did put twelve for the answer to Question 1 on the second sheet, Storm Stunner turned his test over to the armor-clad pegasus with more than twenty minutes to spare.
“HMM, THAT WAS AWFUL QUICK,” the soldier bellowed as he eyed Storm, “LET’S SEE IF YOU’RE CLEVER AS WELL, YOU MOTH.”
Moth? Now he’s just reaching, Storm mulled, a small scowl momentarily betraying his thoughts. Yet even though the tests were disturbingly simple, watching the large pegasus scrutinize his work made him feel that inkling of self-doubt known to anypony who’d just turned in a life-changing examination. That nagging fear that insisted that despite the test taker acing every single answer, somehow they had written the response down incorrectly, or misinterpreted a question, or that they had unwittingly written that the proctor should have come with a knob to dial down his volume.
‘Storm Stunner’ did have twelve letters in it right? A quick mental calculation confirmed that it did. Storm’s thoughts were broken by a clearing of the recruiter’s throat, which was not dissimilar to a tunnel being blasted.
“NOT BAD, NOT BAD AT ALL,” he commended with a curt nod of his head. Storm beamed at the approbation.
“HOWEVER—” and with a single word Storm dimmed, “—QUESTION 4, PAGE 3. IT ASKS ‘WHAT IS 48 DIVIDED BY 2 TIMES 9 PLUS 3?’ YOU PUT 219 WHEN THE ANSWER IS CLEARLY 2.”
Storm considered the debate the problem could instigate regarding the order of operations, and opted to remain silent.
“STILL, COMMENDABLE WORK. TOOK ME A WHILE TO COME UP WITH THOSE QUESTIONS, AND YOU NAILED ALL BUT ONE. I THINK YOU’D BE A FINE CANDIDATE FOR THE GUARD.”
As the recruiter extended a giant foreleg over the desk to shake Storm’s hoof, Storm couldn’t keep back the wide smile as it crept onto his face, even if the other pegasus might’ve squeezed a bit harder in his hoofshake than was necessary.
“Thank you very much, sir! I promise you I won’t let you down!”
“GOOD TO HEAR IT. INDUCTION FOR RECRUITS WILL BE TWO DAYS FROM NOW. MEET HERE AT OH SIX HUNDRED HOURS AND YOU’LL BE LED TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY FOR YOUR INITIATION. UNTIL THEN, ROACH, DISMISSED!”
---
Exiting the small grey building, Storm was struck by how quiet the outside world was in comparison to the bellow of the Guard recruiter. Well, quiet save for an omnipresent ringing in his ears. Nevertheless, the recruitment process was a lot easier than he had imagined it would be. Perhaps it was a little too easy. Truth be told, Storm still felt uncertain about the whole process. It wasn’t as if members of the Royal Guard were terribly common, yet the qualifying examinations were shockingly simple. There had to be some catch that he had yet to encounter, maybe a surprise elimination round at the induction. With a flap of his wings, Storm took to the air with his bindle stick firmly clamped within his jaw. A flight around the area would help him clear his thoughts, as well as help him to find some kind of lodging for the next two days.
Ascending beyond the reach of the nearby towers into the rich azure above, Storm relished the coolness of the air at the greater altitude. As the entirety of the city below collapsed into his view, the farrago of alleyways, buildings, and gardens seemed to fall into order as the minute details were lost and they merged into distinct sections divided by large thoroughfares. Although the gilded towers below shone like beacons in the light of the sun, the recruitment center was just a grey speck that could only be spotted if one knew where to look, and even then its cool slate hid it in the shadows of its taller neighbors. Still, the towers themselves would serve well enough as landmarks for the pegasus drifting lazily overhead.
As he flew over the sprawling metropolis, Storm spotted a lone cloud slowly floating by just below him and descended towards it. A full day of walking on stone roads could really take a toll on the hooves of a pony accustomed to traveling in the skies, and the cottony texture of a cumulus cloud was at that moment very appealing.
Touching down on the soft surface, Storm let his body relax completely. His mind clear of all thoughts, he lay down and gently placed his bindle stick before him, where it gently sank through the condensed vapor. He gently let slip an expletive before diving over the side of the cloud after it. Maybe the pony he had whacked earlier had a good point about the saddlebags.
The bindle stick may have had a head start as it spun wildly in its freefall, but pegasi are notoriously excellent divers. Within a matter of seconds, Storm came within biting grasp and snatched the center of it within his teeth, resisting the urge to drop it as he felt another splinter jab him in the lip. However, when it comes to a free fall a few seconds can cover a lot of distance; the paved surface beneath the pegasus was rocketing towards him, and he only had moments to react before leaving a particularly nasty imprint on it.
Flaring his wings in an attempt to deflect his downward momentum, Storm managed to pull out of his descent just feet above the ground into an erratic flight parallel to the road below him. Still, an erratic flight trumped a dead stop any day. Fanning his wings to break the rush of air against him, he regained enough control to finally touch down on the hard pavement in an easy trot. As he breathed a sigh of relief, a sudden percussion caught his ears. Turning towards the source, he saw a family of unicorns: a mare and stallion stomped the pavement in applause while their filly took a number of snapshots with a pastel-colored camera. Apparently they thought his brush with death was some sort of aerial performance. With reddening cheeks, Storm took an uneasy bow as the snaps from the filly’s camera continued.
Surveying his surroundings, Storm noticed a number of carts and kiosks selling all manner of novelties; a nearby stand featured a number of gaudy saddles with phrases like ‘I ♥ Canterlot’ and ‘I saw Celestia raise the sun and all I got was this nasty burn.’ It seemed the pegasus had plummeted auspiciously right into a tourist district, and that meant there had to be inns nearby. Indeed, a quick scan of the awnings and signs above the street revealed a number of potential lodgings. Storm decided to take his chances at the Maretel 6, recognizing it as one of the cheaper chains in Equestria.
Trotting through the doorway of the motel, Storm was abruptly reminded of the bindle stick in his mouth as each end of it caught the sides of the door’s frame, causing the his head to jerk back violently and send him sprawling onto his haunches. The staccato shutter snapping of the young unicorn’s camera behind him caused his cheeks to flush even brighter than before. He was really starting to regret bringing the troublesome piece of paraphernalia: it was cheap to make, but costed him too much of his pride.
---
Renting a room for a couple of nights was thankfully an uneventful affair. For twenty bits Storm was able to get an economy-sized room, along with what the pegasus proprietor advertised as a ‘complimentary shower.’ Furthermore, should he find himself hungry, Storm was directed towards the in-house dining area, which he found to be a row of ancient vending machines with a few snack food items he could’ve sworn had been discontinued years ago. With his mouth occupied with the bindle stick, the innkeeper proposed following Storm to his room and unlocking it, and with a nod Storm accepted the offer. Following the hall from the reception area, the room was located two doors down on the left; the innkeeper inserted the key into the door handle and let Storm inside.
Aware that many hotel rooms placed the closet area conveniently by the entrance, Storm pondered if the Maretel 6 followed the same design, and if, perhaps, he had just stepped into it. A glance to his left revealed a bed crammed into the corner near the door, and a small shower with a floral patterned curtain catty-corner to it. The floor of the tiny room was paved entirely in bathroom tiles. Perhaps going cheap wasn’t the best option.
A cough from behind him prompted Storm to turn towards the innkeeper, who was holding out a hoof expectantly. With a small frown, Storm fetched a couple of bits from his bindle and dropped them into the other pegasus’s outstretched hoof, hoping it’d be enough to placate him and make him go away. Satisfied, the hotelier gave his thanks and returned to the lobby.
With a resounding thud that no normal mattress should ever produce, Storm collapsed face-first onto his bed, learning painfully that it was almost as soft as the tile it stood on; the pegasus rubbed his bruised chin and hoped that it wouldn’t swell. Rolling down onto the floor for comfort, Storm fetched the magazine he’d purchased from the writer, Nomde, earlier in the day. Hopefully it’d provide a telling glance into the life of a member of the Royal Guard and give him an idea of what to expect. Skimming past the articles speculating about long lost nephews of the royal sisters, and the waist-slimming suggestions placed right before the cake recipes, Storm found the tell-all piece.
Snappy Scoop: So, what can you tell our readers about life in the Royal Guard?
Guard: Pardon me, sir, but this area of the castle is off limits. I must politely ask you to return to the guided tour.
Snappy Scoop: Like, why are all of the pegasus guards white? Is discrimination rampant in the Guard?
Guard: Again, I request that you rejoin the tour group. I do not wish to have to eject you from the premises.
Snappy Scoop: ...You got any juicy gossip on the princesses?
Guard: Very well, sir, you leave me no choice but to forcibly remove you from this area.
Snappy Scoop: Whoa, hey! Don’t get fresh with me! Police brutality!
Guard: Grr, stop struggling you little—
After a minute of staring at the page, Storm folded the magazine and set it beside him on the floor. He hadn’t learned anything from the interview and was left with only more questions. Like why the interviewer had decided to include those embarrassing last few lines, in particular. Chalk it up to journalistic integrity, he supposed.
However, the interviewer’s second question had been one that he himself had often wondered about. It did seem like each of the princess’ unicorn guards were charcoal and their pegasus knights alabaster, just like the loud mouth recruiter from earlier in the afternoon. Storm had heard that their armor was enchanted and he was inclined to believe it; there was just no way that the kindhearted rulers of Equestria would allow for bigotry in their hearts.
Or for there to exist that many pegasi with blue manes, blue eyes, and white coats.
---
The two days preceding the induction passed without incident. Storm purchased a set of cloth saddlebags decaled with the phrase ‘Canterlot: Land of the Rising Sun,’ and after transferring his possessions to them, unceremoniously chucked the bindle stick into a pond. This earned him a ticket for littering from a policemare who happened to witness the act, one last bit of spite from the blasted thing. Early in the morning of the Guard initiation, he checked out of the motel with his bags slung over his back, passing on a complimentary breakfast that nopony who tasted it would ever think to compliment. After taking a moment to admire the sun as it crept over the eastern horizon, its light painting the ashen cobblestones in gold, he beat his wings and joined it in its ascent.
Spotting the glint of light reflected off of the sharp tower spires that marked the location of the recruitment center, Storm began an easy glide through the crisp morning air towards his destination. Although he did not have a timepiece, the position of the summer sun was enough to assure him that he was making good time. Within minutes he alighted near the sun-shaped dial near the recruitment center. Checking the line of the shadow from its gnomon confirmed his assumption; it was approximately twenty minutes before six. That left him with some time to kill, but he didn’t mind. It was better to arrive early and make a good impression after all.
While admiring the odd designs of the nearby towers, Storm was distracted by a fluttering of wings to his side. Glancing towards the noise, he found that rather than a military escort, at his side was a cream-colored pegasus with an orange shock of a mane. On his flank he noticed a pair of red, concentric circles. The newcomer lifted a hoof in greeting.
“Sup, buddy! You joinin’ up with the Guard too?” the yellow pegasus had a guileless grin and eyes that bled friendliness. Storm found himself warming to the stranger instantly.
“Well, that’s the plan, anyways,” Storm returned the smile.
“Ha, right on. Name’s Crack Shot by the way,” Crack Shot extended a hoof towards Storm. As Storm attempted to meet Crack Shot's hoof with his own for a shake, the other pegasus bumped it instead, “What do you go by?”
“I’m Storm Stunner, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Storm Stunner, huh? Wicked name, I take it you did weather work before?” Crack Shot asked, scratching his chin.
“What pegasus hasn’t?” Storm chuckled.
“True that.”
“Still, I was just mediocre at it at best,” he admitted; he was surprised to see Crack Shot's eyebrows arch in response.
“Really? I woulda figured you’d rock it, kickin’ down hurricanes like nopony’s business!” Crack Shot mused, nodding towards the shoes on Storm’s flank.
That was one thing that had always bugged Storm. Most ponies had names that accurately described some talent or other characteristic about them, along with cutie marks to match. It was as if they were destined from the moment they received their given name to fulfill some specific role. Yet here he was stuck with a pair of shoes on his rear and no idea what they meant. It made him feel like a blank flank all over again.
“What about you? Are those targets on your sides? Can you hit a fly's eye at twenty yards?” Storm asked with a smidgeon of sarcasm.
“You know it buddy! Hold on a sec and check this out.”
Storm knew he shouldn’t have been so nonplussed by this enthusiastic affirmation, yet sure enough he was.
Crack Shot scanned the street and, spotting what he was searching for, flew next to two small, loose cobblestones. Taking one between his teeth and the other in his right hoof, he aimed his head towards the sky. In one fluid motion he spat the first stone from his mouth far into the air in front of him, tossed the second a short distance above his head, spun around and reared onto his forelegs, and with a sharp kick sent it streaking into the first with a loud clack.
“Pretty sweet, huh?” Crack Shot said with a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face.
Storm reply came as a low guttural noise, his slacken jaw rendering him incapable of intelligible speech.
“Haha! I’ll take that as a ‘Heck Yeah’!” Crack Shot clapped the dazed pegasus on the shoulder, then looking just beyond him said, “Oh sup, dude?”
“Oh, hello,” came a meek reply.
Storm recovered from his stupor with a small shake of his head, and followed Crack Shot’s gaze. A few yards away stood a pastel pink unicorn colt with a neat, powder blue mane; he smiled nervously at the two of them. How the heck do these ponies keep sneaking up on me? Storm pondered. Crack Shot trotted towards the newcomer and Storm followed.
“No need to look so freaked, we ain’t gonna bite ya.” Crack Shot gave a warm smile, and the unicorn relaxed a little.
“I apologize, I’ll admit to being a bit reticent around strangers,” the unicorn said, “I did not mean any offense.”
“Hehe, none taken. I’m Crack Shot, dude over there is Storm Stunner; we were just talking talents. What’s your name?” Crack Shot extended a hoof and to Storm’s surprise the unicorn bumped it. Storm offered his own and received a firm shake.
“My name is Check Mate. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” Check Mate smiled once more, a bit more easily.
“Check Mate, eh? Well, welcome to the conversation; I take it your talent is chess?” Crack Shot guessed, stealing a glance at the unicorn's side: on Check Mate’s flank was a light blue pegasus knight piece.
“Although it would be immodest, I won’t deny an aptitude for the game.” The unicorn chuckled. “However, I would consider that only one application of my ability.”
The two pegasi tilted their heads, curious as to his meaning.
“Perhaps an example would be in order, if you’d be interested. Crack Shot right? That stunt you performed earlier, could you do it once more?”
Crack Shot shrugged and trotted off in search of two more pebbles. Check Mate turned to face Storm.
“And if you would, follow my sight and watch the ground carefully.”
Intrigued, Storm did as asked, not sure about what to be looking for. Through the corner of his eye, Check Mate watched Crack Shot carefully as he balanced a pebble in one hoof, another hidden between his teeth. As soon as the pegasus began his trick, Check Mate's eyes narrowed, and he willed a narrow beam of light from his horn, creating a small, glimmering spot on the cobblestones some distance away. With a snap of his back legs Crack Shot once more struck the stone from the air with a precision shot, sending it arcing errantly into the sky. The rock wobbled and turned in its descent, before colliding with the road, and, after a few bounces, finally coming to rest directly in the middle of the spot of light.
“I suppose you could say that my special talent is an affinity for probability,” Check Mate concluded.
Storm was getting tired of being rendered speechless. Crack Shot just howled with laughter.
“That was amazing, dude! I bet you could make a KILLIN’ at roulette!” Crack Shot cheered as he ruffled the unicorn's mane.
“That is probably true—” Check Mate's smile softened. “—but it wouldn’t be very scrupulous.”
“Aw, I’m just messin’ with ya. Still, that is a wicked trick for sure,” Crack Shot’s head suddenly swiveled towards Storm’s, causing him to start back in surprise. “That reminds me pal, I never did find out what your talent is, ‘cept that it ain’t cloud kickin’."
Oh boy, here it comes.
“I... actually have no idea. I lost all memory of the day I got my cutie mark,” Storm muttered, as his lips pursed in embarrassment.
The eyes of both Crack Shot and Check Mate went wide in disbelief, the unicorn apparently not seeing that one coming. Storm wished ponies would stop giving him that look. Crack Shot was the first to break the silence.
“Huh, that ain’t that big a deal, I guess. Hey, I got it! Why don’t we get Check here to use his freaky-deaky psychic powers to figure out how you got it?” Crack Shot gave the unicorn a hearty slap on the back, causing him to gasp as the air was knocked out of him.
“I’m afraid my talent doesn’t quite function like that," Check Mate said after catching his breath. "It’s most reliable over a narrow window of time within a limited field of space. Furthermore, although I may be able to accurately determine outcomes, I’m unable to divine the antecedents to events that have already occurred.”
“So you’re saying you can’t read the past?” Storm translated.
“Precisely.”
“Well ain’t that a boot to the flank. Sorry ‘bout that Storm, guess those kicks on your rear are gonna stay a riddle for now.”
“Eh, it’s alright.” Storm shrugged. Then he recalled what brought him there in the first place. “Say, what time is it, now? Are you here for the Guard induction as well, Check Mate?”
“Indeed I am,” the Check Mate answered, as he trotted towards the sundial. He frowned as he read the shadow lining its surface. “And apparently it’s a little past 6:15. It would seem as if our chaperone is truant.”
As if on cue, a white pegasus in golden armor crashed into the ground between the trio. Concerned looks on their faces, the three surrounded the pegasus, who was sprawled with limbs going at awkward angles, some acute, some obtuse, though none of them looked right. With a groan, the pegasus stood uneasily and gave a full body shake, seemingly recovered. Recognizing the pony that was likely their guide to the initiation ceremony, Check Mate stepped back and gave a clumsy salute; the other two pegasi quickly joined him in a misaligned file. Looking over the three, the armored pegasus gave a casual wave.
“Heh, that’ll wake you up.” The pegasus cracked his neck as he addressed the ponies before him, who were now giving him doubting looks. “I’ve got no idea why they have to do these things so damn early in the morning.”
The eyes of the three ponies darted between each other, unsure of how to react and unwilling to break their salute.
“Huh? Oh! Uh, at ease or whatever.” The trio relaxed a bit, but tried to maintain some formality in their posture. The guardspony snorted at this. "So you guys stoked to see Princess Celly? She’ll probably be addressing you if she isn’t conked out from texting her BFF in Ponyville through dragon fire all night. Come on, follow me!”
The gilded pegasus began trotting north down the cobblestone street, and after a second’s pause the three ponies quickly fell in behind him.
“He’s rather casual, isn’t he?” Storm whispered to the other two with a look of concern.
“Yeah, he seems pretty chill,” Crack Shot mused, as content as ever.
“He is a rather disparate personality compared to the recruiter I met with earlier this week.” Check Mate shuddered at the recollection. Speaking up to catch the attention of their guide, he asked, “If I may inquire, sir, I had thought that the gentlecolt in charge of the recruitment center would be leading us to the ceremony.”
“You mean old Sergeant Cacopony? Yeah, he’ll be there. He just wanted to make sure everything was in perfect order; he’s kinda prissy like that.
“Speaking of which, we better get moving if we wanna make it on time.”
As the guardspony quickened his pace, so too did the trio of new friends on their way towards the royal academy for their inception into the Guard and the start of a new life, each of them feeling less and less certain about what to expect.
---
The auditorium of the royal academy buzzed with the voices of the modest group of recruits awaiting the start of the ceremony. Storm had never been in such an extravagant hall (although he couldn't recall ever actually having been in any kind of hall), and could barely take it all in. The great maple doors entering into the auditorium extended several yards toward a vaulted ceiling, and were covered in carvings of intricate filigrees. Within the hall, along the length of the walls on either side of the doors, colorful panes of stained glass depicted images of Equestria’s history, the eastern face shining brilliantly as the morning light filtered through. At the opposite end of the corridor stood a grand stage, its heavy crimson curtains drawn to reveal a detailed painting of the sun and the moon on the back wall, which depicted both the perfections and the peccadilloes of the celestial bodies. The floor could've done for a sweeping. A familiar, burly white pegasus entered on to the stage from the right. Even without the aid of a microphone, his voice sounded clearly throughout the hall.
“FALL IN, VERMIN!” he rumbled, causing the stained glass to tremble.
The din of the auditorium ceased as groups of ponies quickly formed lines in front of the stage at Sergeant Cacopony’s command.
“EACH OF YOU GNATS SHOULD BE FEELING DAMN PROUD RIGHT NOW. THROUGH CAREFUL EVALUATION, YOU’VE ALL BEEN SHOWN THE EXHIBIT POTENTIAL TO SERVE AMONG EQUESTRIA’S FINEST.”
Storm wasn’t sure if he bought that line, and wondered if the ponies that had tested at the other recruitment centers across Equestria had undergone the laughable assessment that he had.
“BUT POTENTIAL ALONE IS NOT ENOUGH. YOU MUST PROVE YOURSELF WORTHY OF THE ARMOR YOU WEAR, REALIZE THAT IT REPRESENTS NOT ONLY YOU, BUT THE GUARD AS A WHOLE, SUCH THAT YOU MAY WEAR IT WITH PRIDE!”
The auditorium erupted in applause as the assembled ponies stamped the ground.
“NOW, IT IS MY GREAT HONOR TO INTRODUCE OUR GLORIOUS PRINCESS CELESTIA!”
Sergeant Cacopony and the pony recruits fell into low bows as the Princess of the Sun stepped gracefully onto the stage. Although all heads were to the ground, there was not a pair of eyes that did not strain to catch a glimpse of the regal alicorn. Even in the cool shade of the stage, she radiated the gentle warmth of spring’s sunlight. Billowing in an ethereal wind unfelt by the attending ponies, her tail and mane danced around her, and several hushed gasps could be heard among the recruits. However, Storm noticed what looked to be dark circles beneath her coral eyes, and her ears seemed to flit about in irritation.
“Thank you Sergeant Cacopony, for that truly... passionate introduction,” Celestia spoke in a melodic voice. “And to you, my honorable ponies, I would ask that you rise.”
Everypony stood proudly to face the princess.
“As I am sure you all realize, as members of the Royal Guard, your duties will not extend solely to the protection of my sister and I, nor that of the citizens of our beautiful land. The aegis you provide must secure not only the physical well-being of your charges, but their moral and emotional eudemonia as well.”
“Psst, what’s eudemonia mean?” Crack Shot whispered to his companions, who silenced him with a sharp shush. Celestia’s eyes briefly twinkled towards the trio as she continued her address.
“As members of the Royal Guard, realize that you will be paragons, and realize the responsibility that fact carries. You must be exemplars of not only strength and courage, but of kindness and compassion. I ask that you not view yourselves as the sword arm of my sister and I, for in wildly trying to trim the rot you will inadvertently cleave the good as well, and our rule is not one of despotism.
“Although any pony may err, any pony may also redeem themselves, and all it may take is a bit of empathy.”
The princess paused for the briefest of moments.
“So as you begin your noble service, I have a simple request: that you remember where you came from, that you will remember who you serve.”
As Celestia concluded her speech, the sounds of fervent stomping and cheers resounded through the auditorium for minutes. Despite their brevity, or perhaps due to it, the princess’s words had resonated deeply in the hearts of all those present. Bowing humbly to her loyal Guard, Celestia retreated into the recesses behind the stage. Probably to catch up on the sleep she had missed the night before and didn’t have a chance to make up after raising the sun. These events really did take place too early in the morning.
The ponies once more broke into groups to discuss and cheer their induction into the Royal Guard. Although the rigors of basic training and many other trials awaited them in the days to come, they had this moment to celebrate.
---
The following day, Storm was even more excited than when he had the chance to see the princess speak. This was the day he would be fitted with the signature golden armor of the pegasus troops and truly become a member of the Royal Guard. He had barely gotten a wink of sleep due to his excitement the night before, but still he was invigorated. Arriving at the royal academy hours early, and entrusting his belongings to two of the guards stationed outside of the entrance, he ensured that he would be the first to be clad in the magical plate.
After some time, a line of other recruits had formed behind Storm as the fated hour approached, Check Mate and Crack Shot beside him.
The fated hour came.
The fated hour went.
“So, is this, like, a thing with the Royal Guard, or what?” Crack Shot asked. Check Mate shrugged in response.
Finally, with a rush of air, a familiar armor-clad pegasus landed roughly between Storm and the entranceway. Storm pondered over the fact that despite the same white coat, blue mane, and gold armor these ponies could be so immediately recognizable.
“Ha, sorry about that guys! Rooster forgot to crow. Name’s Kickstart. Or Corporal Kickstart if you want to get all formal,” the guide from the day before halfheartedly apologized. Recognizing the three ponies he had escorted, the pegasus shot them a lopsided grin, “Oh, sup again; glad you survived Cacopony's speech! Come on, I’ll get y’all suited up.”
The line of ponies filtering in behind him, Kickstart led Storm and the others through a series of hallways and down a winding staircase towards the armory. Firefly lanterns cast soft light in the dim basement corridors, painting quadruped shadows on the walls as the ponies passed by. Kickstart came to a stop before a sturdy, cast iron door secured with a large, dead bolt lock. The pegasus had a moment of panic, followed by one of relieved realization as he reached into the hair of his tail and produced a wrought iron key. Upon turning in the keyhole, it produced a heavy clang, and the door slowly opened as its hinges creaked in protest.
“Come on in pal, let’s get you decked out.” Kickstart beckoned Storm into the armory after him.
Storm was amazed by the sight before him. Endless rows of pristine, gilded armor shimmered in the firefly light, more than his eyes could take in. He never would’ve imagined so much gold existed buried beneath all of the mountains of Equestria, let alone within a vault underneath the city of Canterlot. Kickstart trotted towards a rack and pulled off a set of plate mail, along with a small case and jar balanced precariously on his back.
As Kickstart fit the armor onto Storm, the brown pegasus was surprised by how comfortable it was. It seemed to have some sort of pliable backing that molded against his haunches. Despite its size, the helmet he wore did nothing to hamper his vision. However, looking himself over Storm was surprised to see that he was still a brown pegasus. It wasn’t that he minded the color of his pelt (in fact, he had come to grow quite fond of it), but he was curious to see how the magic of his armor functioned. Did it need an additional incantation? He called over to the gilded pegasus who was fidgeting with the jar.
“Hey, I had heard that our armor was supposed to be enchanted to make each of us look similar; why hasn’t my coat changed color?”
“Oh yeah, just gimme a sec!” Kickstart trotted next to Storm and without warning gave him a series of firm whacks across the armor.
As his armor was struck, Storm felt its backing rupture and he was suddenly covered in an unpleasant, wet coolness. Trying to shake off the offending fluid, Storm only succeeded in saturating the rest of his coat and feathers with it.
Then the smell hit him: an acrid odor that he vaguely recognized from the infrequent times he had gotten his mane trimmed.
“Wait a minute—the secret behind our enchanted armor is BLEACH?!” the now not-so-brown pegasus exclaimed.
“Yep,” Kickstart tossed Storm the small case. Snapping it open, Storm found a pair of blue contact lenses.
“Careful not to jab your eye while putting those in,” the Corporal warned as he dipped a brush into the jar he was fiddling with earlier. “Now hold still, I’ve gotta get your tail.”