//------------------------------// // 5 - Assistants, Speeches, and Other Things // Story: War Games // by Darkstarling //------------------------------// “Platoons 1,2,3,5,7, and 11 report to the drill yard! That’s the drill yard ponies, on the double!” Tempest stalked through the barracks, Spike at her side. It was good to be in command again, and in armor. Good but different, starting with the armor itself. It was new, and she was still getting used to it. It might fit like a glove, but new armor always took time to break in. It was really good armor though, she had to admit, even as she shrugged her shoulders to get a feel for the motion. It was crafted of iridescent white opal with a black petral, flanchard, and tail guard of magic-resistant resonite.  And covering her cutie mark, in the place of the Storm King’s logo, was a burning heart with flames of purple, pink, and white. She scowled intensely at that, for at least two reasons. Damn twisted Princess. That the armor had apparently been personally commissioned and presented to her by Twilight as an expression of her friendship and admiration just made it worse. Something about personally fending off a raid by Yak bandits, though the details of the dream were a bit sketchy. Fortunately she didn’t have time to dwell. She had work to do, sorting out the soon-to-be-joining participants from the dream-things to prevent awkward questions. And if she did it with a thunderous expression on her face, well, that was appropriate. “And I need messengers!” Spike piped in, flipping through his notes. “I need, um, the 2nd flyer squad!” As they trotted up he passed them a list. “I need these officers assembled as well, starting with Lieutenant Sentry and Captain Sky. They’re at the palace.” They saluted and flew off. Spike really was on top of this, Tempest thought to herself. You could tell he had grown up with Twilight. Organized, good initiative. He was already head and shoulders above any other aide she’d had in her career. It almost made up for his sense of style. Almost. When she’d first seen his outfit she’d struggled not to burst out in laugher. He also had a personal suit of armor, solid resonite plates that Tempest was convinced were to keep him from absentmindedly nibbling the blood red quartz underlayer. Perfectly practical so far. But the number of spikes on it...did he expect to be swallowed by a hydra? And the sheer size of those gold epaulets. And he had, for reasons unknown but that probably rhymed with Slinky Sly, combined it with a top hat and cape that made him look like a Kludgetown pimp. Still, she was a professional. She didn’t laugh then, and despite temptation she wouldn’t do it now. Besides, he’d at least skipped the mustache. “Good work Spike” was what she said aloud. “How long do we have before the Crystal Empire joins us?” “Five minutes” Spike relied. “Assuming they’re on time at least, and if I know Shining they will be. He’s always been tough around discipline and punctuality.” “Really? Even compared to Twilight?” “Ha! Actually yes, he’s where she got it from. Trying to be like the awesome big brother and all that, you know? It’s just that he’s not quite so...particular about it.” Right, she'd been looking for a lead in to this conversation. Might as well do it now. “Just to be clear. You know how much I’ve come to respect Twilight. But when you say ‘particular’ you mean neurotic. Right?” Spike looked really uncomfortable and didn’t say anything, which confirmed it. Good. “It’s alright Spike. You can care a lot about someone without being blind to their flaws. Harmony knows I do.” She refused to glare at the heraldry on her armor. “And since we’re going to be leading Twilight’s army, we're going to have to. At least if we want to win.” Spike looked up at her, confused. “Well sure I want to win. But I don’t get it.” That was fine, Tempest hadn’t expected him to. “There’s a pre-unification book, Twin Sun’s ‘The Art of War’. Have you ever read it?” Spike nodded, and Tempest smiled. “Good. Glad to see living in a library has been good for you. Do you remember what he said about winning wars?” “Hide where you’re strong and hit where they’re weak” Spike replied instantly. “And it doesn’t matter if you win battles, what matters is getting what you want.” Right, he’s a dragon, Tempest thought. That would be his take away. “That’s certainly part of it, but not what I was thinking of. I was thinking of one of his more famous quotes. That to win you have to know your enemy, and know yourself. We all have qualities and flaws, and so do our enemies. And if we don’t understand them, they’ll undo us. In Twilight’s case, we have to remember that she’ll obsess over details and micromanage if we don’t stop her.” Spike nodded. “That makes sense. Just like we need to remember how Dash and I can be show offs, and how you can get really angry and lose perspective.” Heh, touche dragon. “Yes, exactly like that. You catch on quick Spike.” He smiled. “Now come on, let me show you how to harangue the troops.” Fortunately the parade ground had a good raised speaking platform, a sloping ledge of crystal with stairs cut in that overlooked everything. Tempest hoped Spike had been right about the Crystal Guard being punctual, or else she was about to look really stupid. He was up there now, ordering the platoons into formation. She took a few deep breaths, and to calm her nerves she quickly ran over everything. Everyone was assembled, she’d checked that her and Spike’s armor was insulated, and according to her clock the Empire troops should be appearing...now. She charged her horn and touched it to the crystal, sending the chaotic energy coruscating across the surface with a crackle and a smell of ozone. Perfect. She strode up the ramp, surrounded by flares of Discord’s Fire that licked her legs like playful dogs, and gazed down on the awakening troops that looked up with shock. There were gasps, and even a few looks of awe. She kept her face to a practiced sneer, but inside she was rejoicing. Magic of friendship or not, there was nothing like a good entrance. “Hey everypony” she said, in a tone carefully practiced to drip disdain. Stick first, then carrot, just like always. “So. You all know me. And I suppose it’s vaguely possible I fought one of you before. But if I did I don’t remember it. I’ve fought a lot of ponies. Let's get the difficult part out of the way first. Yes, I’m Tempest. Conqueror of Canterlot, right hand mare to the Storm King” She laid the sarcasm on heavily for that. Subtlety never played well to soldiers. “And guess what. You have the luck to be on my side this time.” “I know none of you like me. Some of you probably hate me. And if you think I’m about to say I hate myself just as much, you’re wrong. I’m sure most of you wouldn’t even mind seeing us crash and burn, just to teach me a lesson. But. If you think that I’m going to let that happen, you’re a bunch of rutting fools.” She fixed them with a glare, making sure to sweep the crowd so everyone was included. “We’re going to do this, and we’re going to win. Not for me, I’ve got nothing to prove anymore. And not for you. Though I imagine your Prince handing Captain Kicker his flank on a stick will be a sweet bonus.” There were a few chuckles at that. Nothing like inter-service rivalry. “No, we’re doing this because Equestria needs us. Our Princesses need us. I’m here for Twilight Sparkle, because whatever my past that mare has my loyalty till the day I die. You hate me? Fine. Take that and use it. Because why are we here? To keep the world safe from bastards like me. We’re the guard. We stand so others can run, and we face the monsters so others never see them. And,” and here she let a feral grin slip onto her face “if we have to do that by kicking flank and taking names? Well I guess that’s just the burden we’ll have to live with. Company dismissed!” With that she turned and marched back down the stairs, seemingly oblivious to the hoof stomping behind her or Spike giving the new bunking orders to separate the dreamers from the dreams. She made sure she was well out of sight before collapsing halfway down the stairs, breathing heavily again to keep the shakes down. And that was where Spike found her a few minutes later, as the troops began filing away from the square. “Tempest, are you okay?” Spike put a claw on her shoulder. “Heh, yeah I’m okay. Thanks though.” She looked over at him. “I’ve just always hated public speaking. Give me a minute, I’ll be fine.” Spike looked at her skeptically. Smart dragon. “Stage fright? You? Really?” Well, she thought, I guess you didn’t need to be Honesty to see through that one. “Yeah well. Not often you give a speech to soldiers you need to work with who have every reason to want your head on a pike. Not without some heavy backup at least. And not in a dreamworld where no-one will face real consequences. Besides," she admitted, "I really do hate giving speeches.” She grinned ruefully. “It’s something I had to learn, but given the choice I’d rather scare the horseapples out of everyone and charge.” “Well you’re pretty good at it for something you hate.” Spike gave her a big smile. “That was totally awesome. And besides, it’s not like you didn’t have backup this time either.” “Well I guess that’s true.” Tempest grinned back. “It’s not like I’ve had a fire breathing dragon as a bodyguard before.” “Huh? Oh, yeah there’s me too I guess. But I actually meant Twilight and the others. They were watching.” Tempest blinked. “What.” Oh buck me in the face. “Yeah, they were off to the side so they wouldn’t distract you.” Oh seriously, buck me. And I’ve been sitting here like a whimpering fool. Get UP Tempest. “I burned Twilight a note saying you needed a minute when I saw you on the stairs though. She thinks you’re doing paperwork.” Tempest blinked as his words caught up to her brain and her panic derailed. “Spike,” she said calmly, “you know I could kiss you right now if your armor wouldn’t poke my eye out?” “Aw shucks Tempest, it’s not a big deal. Friends help each other right? And besides, I know how bad stress and panic attacks get. Forget about it.” “Well sorry, but you’re stuck with me remembering. We should still get going though. I think I’ve filled out enough forms for now don’t you?” A quick trotting pace to find the others quickly left Spike behind. Tempest felt a bit bad about that, but it really was the best way to dispel the last of the adrenaline. Fortunately tracking them down had been easy with Spike’s instructions and the strange feeling of familiarity with a strange city the dream had plopped into her head. “That was totally wicked!” Dash burst out, as soon as she saw her, doing a loop the loop. “Ayep, good work there. Didn’t sugarcoat nothin, and gave them as don’t like you a reason to help out anyway and feel proud of themselves. Couldn’t’ve said it better mahself” said Applejack. “On that we are certainly agreed” said Rarity, with a wink to Tempest. Applejack frowned. “But Tempest, I have to ask, who was your assistant? That outfit...you didn’t bring Grubber into this did you? I thought he’d returned to the Hobgoblin lands.” Just as she said that there was a clatter, and a puffing Spike rounded the corner. “Oh! Rarity!” He blushed, and struck what he clearly thought of as a heroic and martial pose. “Check out the new duds I got for this! Totally awesome right?” Rarity just stared, wide eyed. Apparently the effect had been somewhat mitigated by distance. Through all this Tempest had barely been listening, because her attention had been locked on Twilight. The mare she was still somewhat furious with, and also the mare she had literally just declared her undying loyalty to in front of a crowd of hundreds.Twilight was blushing furiously, and Tempest had no idea how to handle that. Their eyes locked, and Tempest would have loved to say something, except her mind was totally blank. The awkward moment might have lasted forever if Pinkie’s voice hadn’t cut across with a whine. “Spiiiiike, you forgot the mustache! You promised!” There was a pink blur, and a slapping noise as a fake mustache was forcibly applied to Spike’s face. Rarity’s eyes rolled up in her head, her horn flared, and she collapsed onto a conjured couch in a delicate faint.