As a rule, my work mainly keeps me in Canterlot. Celestia and her Day Court are here, so it's quite rare for me to need to travel outside of the capitol for work. However, there are occasions every now and then that send me all over Equestria on the princesses behalf. I’ve been her man on the ground during the manhunt for Troubleshoes, I’ve been her representative at tribal council meetings during disputes between the ponies and the buffalo, and I’ve sat on Counsel Row while half of the Cosa Nostra went inside for all day in Manehattan.
Today it seemed that I was to be going much further afield than before. For the first time in my career, I was to be sent overseas to our long standing friends and allies in the Griffon Kingdom. Unfortunately, it was not a pleasant social call. There had apparently been some sort of incident involving a couple of guards. It was something to do with an exchange program; we have a good thirty or so of our boys on loan and vice versa. And it seemed that it had been serious enough to get the Griffon legal system involved. How did I know this? Because the Griffons had sent a representative to Canterlot to bring the matter to Tia’s attention. Hence why I was now following my old friend Buttercup along the familiar path to the entrance to the throne room.
Heading in by the side entrance, I walked up to the dais and bustled up the small steps to join my friend and ruler. Celestia was sat on her throne, a concerned look on her face, while a griffon, in full dress uniform of their military, a colonel I think, addressed her.
“You sent for me, Princess?” I asked as I joined her, Celestia smiled slightly as she turned to me.
“Yes, my advisor,” she said gently. “This is Colonel Guillotine of the Griffon Defence Forces. He’s brought some rather troubling news.”
This Colonel Guillotine was an impressive looking chap. He wore the slate grey uniform of the Griffons, with red and gold epaulettes on his shoulders. He was without a hat, but wore a monocle in his left eye. He also boasted a rather impressive chest of medals, although like Russians, the Griffons do tend to pass them out like candy. Still, with a name like that, I wasn’t going to try anything funny with this guy.
“Indeed I do,” he said, with traces of a Prench accent. The region of Prance borders the two countries and has changed hooves and claws more than once over the last few hundred years.
“The facts put simply, sir, are these. Four days ago, two of your guards, serving on the military exchange program went to a bar in the capital city of Moscrow. They proceeded to get themselves absolutely soused to the point the landlord cut them off and told them to leave his establishment. Instead of accepting that however, the two ponies engaged in a most violent brawl with both the establishment’s staff and several members of our police force before being arrested.
“Now, ordinarily, we would simply have these two removed from our country and returned to you. However, in the course of that fight, the two ponies also severely injured one of the patrons who was attempting to stop the fight; my comrade in arms Major Hartwin. Given that these ponies are technically serving the Defence Forces, you can see the problem.”
I nodded in understanding, seeing just why this had become quite so serious.
“Indeed I do, Herr Colonel,” I replied, offering a bit of the griffon’s native tongue to build some rapport. I then turned to Tia. “In the laws of the Griffon Defence Forces, striking a senior officer is a capital offence, even in peacetime. Both ponies could be sent before a court martial and hanged.”
Griffon laws, like the people and land, are noticeably harsher than those of Equestria. They believe in a strict adherence to the law and have a strict hierarchy, particularly in the military. And there were equally harsh punishment for breaking those laws.
“However,” Guillotine went on. “We are well aware that such an action would be entirely unacceptable to our Equestrian neighbours. So his majesty has sent me here to see if a compromise may be reached. We, that is to say both his majesty’s government and Major Hartwin himself, are certainly willing to simply see these two removed from our nation, never to return. But as I’m sure you are aware, we would require some sort of restitution.”
Celestia nodded sagely and pondered the situation for a moment before replying.
“That is a most reasonable request, Colonel,” she replied. “While the laws and customs of my guard are not quite as strict as your own, I assure you that these two will face severe punishment upon their return. If nothing else, allow me to offer to send a representative to escort them back and deliver my personal apologies to Major Hartwin.”
Hartwin had previously served in the Royal Guard in the same exchange program. He and I had gotten along quite well, with the both of us learning a thing or two from the venerable Captain Strong Shield. It certainly hurt to hear that our supposedly well disciplined guards had not only kicked off, but kicked off on him as well. Celestia wasn’t kidding either. I had no doubt that she had something in mind for these two twits.
“And who might you be willing to send, Princess?” Guillotine asked. “While the offer is kind, I fear that, for the moment, we would not be able to allow any of your guards into our homeland.”
That was a pickle wasn’t it. Ponies as a rule didn’t much care to go to the Griffon Kingdom. While they are allies, their society is remarkably different and at times the antitheses to pony culture. A consequence of being predators I suppose. Whoever went would only need to be there for half a day at most. It was simply a collection to bring our two boys back home to face the music.
“I could do it,” I offered before I could stop myself from speaking. Both alicorn and griffon looked at me in surprise.
“You, my advisor?” Celestia asked after recovering from her slight shock.
To be fair, it was quite out of character for me. While I have gone further afield in the past, it has always been because I’d been ordered to rather than volunteering. I’d certainly never gone beyond Equestria’s borders. But it made sense, and I told Tia as much.
“Well, I’m not a pony,” I replied. “I’m not affiliated with the Royal Guard in any meaningful way. I can confidently represent you and Princess Luna at proceedings. And I have the authority to arrest and repatriate the two guards on the spot. Plus I’m on good terms with the head of the Griffon military.”
Ah, yes,” Guillotine replied. “I remember hearing Herr Riverbill talk about your meeting at that reception two years ago.”
Riverbill, the Reichsmarschall of the Griffon Defence Forces, and I, had met at a formal reception when he visited Canterlot on behalf of the king. We’d gotten on well enough together, bonding over our shared experiences of soldiering, me in the volunteers, and he in the militia. If nothing else, a familiar face might help smooth over the effects of this incident. Celestia seemed to agree.
“If you are happy to go Roger, I shall not stop you,” she said, after considering it for a moment. “I must admit you would be an ideal candidate.”
“I can leave first thing tomorrow,” I said, now sure of myself.
“Excellent!” Guillotine said, sounding satisfied. “I am staying the night here myself. So allow me to offer you a ride to my country.”
“And I meanwhile will arrange for your transportation home, along with the two prisoners,” Celestia added.
With that, the matter was settled. And a potential political rift between two otherwise friendly nations, was nipped in the bud. Now all I had to do was tell the memsahib where I was going.
“The Griffon Kingdom?” Margaret said with some surprise as I broke the news over dinner.
Learning from previous mistakes, I’d been careful to serve her a fair bit of wine before hand. Margaret doesn’t have much of a tolerance for booze. Half a glass and twenty minutes later, she’s overcome by a fit of giggles and falls fast asleep. It certainly seemed to be working, since her tone was more curious than accusatory.
“It’s only for a day,” I assured her. “I just go to the capital, collect these two plebs from the griffon’s version of the Old Bill, bus them back home to Canterlot and turn them over for a proper good bollocking. The only reason I volunteered myself was so Celestia could send a non-pony representative so as not to fan the flames. Plus I am rather in the good graces of that Riverbill bloke.”
Margaret considered this carefully, as much as anyone could when they were just bordering on tipsy.
“Well, as long as you promise to be careful. But griffons seem alright. I remember we had that griffon, what’s his name, Hartwin over to the school a while or so back to give a talk on Griffon history. You remember, it was just after Pinkie and Rainbow came back from Griffonstone.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it was Hartwin the two idiots punched?” I asked.
“Seriously?” she replied, pausing in her meal. I nodded.
“Yeah, he stepped in to try and break things up, and that’s when they both jumped on him.”
“For goodness sake!” Margaret shook her head in dismay. “I know soldiers on leave can get a little rowdy. But when you’re representing your country overseas the least you can do is not get arrested.”
“Come on, think of what your dad used to say about the Yanks that were stationed back home during the last war.”
“I remember him telling me how he and friends got a fight with some redneck GIs when they wouldn’t let the black squadies drink at the Red Lion. Still, you’d have thought ponies wouldn’t be quite as bad.” I shrugged.
“Hey, I was rather hoping this place didn’t have racist jackasses either, but Neighsay exists to put a dent in that.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Margaret agreed. “So when are you leaving?”
“First thing. I’ll head up to Canterlot as usual, and from there the griffons will take me across the sea to their capital.”
“I trust you’ve been properly briefed on how to behave over there?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked puzzled.
“Well,” she said, trying and failing to suppress a giggle. “You know...Moscrow rules.”
We both laughed.
Margaret might have been joking, but she did have something of a point there. Moscrow, or rather Moscow Rules, were a set of rules western intelligence agencies adopted when working inside the Soviet Union. While the Griffon Kingdom was an allied power, you still had to stay on your toes, particularly when you considered the reason for my visit. Still, while I’d keep my head on a swivel, I didn’t foresee any major problems.
And so, the following morning, I bid goodbye to my wife and to Charlie, and set off on the train up to Canterlot. Taking a cab up the hill to the castle to save time, I quickly made my way to the throne room, where Celestia, along with Colonel Guillotine were waiting for me. The alicorn looked a little uneasy, but for the most part seemed calm and relaxed as ever. No doubt that she, in the unlikely event anything went wrong, had at least a dozen contingency plans to get me back. In contrast, the colonel appeared eager for the off. I suppose being here in the land of peace and harmony was just as odd to him as it was for ponies to visit the dark and somewhat foreboding land of the Griffon Kingdom.
“Good morning, Princess,” I said, offering a slight bow before turning to my new travelling companion. “Herr Colonel.”
“I trust you have made all necessary preparations?” Celestia asked. I nodded.
“I have all my travel documents, including my diplomatic clearance right here, your highness,” I replied. “Along with the arrest warrant for both of the ponies I’m to retrieve.”
“Do not worry yourself, Princess,” Guillotine assured her. “I shall have your man back before you set the sun.” It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I noticed that odd turn of phrase. After all, ponies had no concept of what ‘man’ is before they met me, and possibly that weird mirror world.
“I’ll wire you with a report from Moscrow once I’ve met with the two prisoners, Tia,” I added.
And with that, we both collected our luggage, such as it was, and made for one of the landing platforms used by castle chariots. I’d taken these plenty of times, particularly when I travelled up north to the Crystal Empire. The white and gold chariots of the guard are a well known sight across the country, and arriving in one automatically links you with Celestia in the minds of most ponies.
However, the landing area also acted as a mooring point for airships that docked in the city. In the absence of propeller or jet powered flight, these were your primary mode of long range transportation. While a trip up north was doable with pony power, it simply wasn’t feasible to travel all the way to the Griffon Kingdom without a relief pair of flyers.
In the aftermath of the Storm King incident, Equestria had pulled several of its military airships out of mothballs, and these were now used as a form of border patrol. After all, the only reason the incursion was as successful as it was, was due to the fact that the enemy fleet entered Equestrian airspace undetected and unopposed. Early warning would have allowed the princesses, or Twilight and her friends to easily turn them back, and the whole matter would never have blown up as seriously as it did.
It was by this means that Guillotine and I would be travelling today. He had come in one of the Griffons' own airships, an impressive looking warship, rather than by carriage or chariot. First things first, I encountered something of a pun when it came to the name of the vessel.
“Well, what do you think of the Birdsmark, Herr Owen?” Guillotine asked, gesturing to the large airship. “She is named after one of our greatest leaders.”
The Griffons seem to share commonalities with both the Germans and Russians, and sometimes not in the best ways. For the Ruskies, you have their fondness for drink as well as the names of several of their cities. But the Germanic influence is stronger I think, reflected in their language, traditions, military, including their slate grey uniforms, as well as their overall history, being a long time enemy of Equestria in the past, and having always contested the Prench region. Then again, they do refer to the war that united the country under the current royalist regime as the Great Patriotic War.
The Birdsmark was currently moored at one of three airship stations, the one on the left held a cruise line airship making a voyage from Vanhoover to Manehattan, while the other currently berthed a Fancy Pants’ private airship. The Birdsmark dwarfed both craft.
Two griffon sentries met us at the gangplank and led us up onto the ship. Following usual maritime tradition, I called up from the gangplank and requested permission to come aboard. She was quite the impressive sight, probably falling into the battlecruiser class of ships, with large canons on either side, and smaller bow and stern chasers on the top deck mounted in turrets. The gondola that formed the main body of the ship, suspended below the vast helium filled balloon, was made of steel and painted grey. From the aft section flew the flag of the Griffon Kingdom and their naval ensign.
She was by no means a pleasure craft, but being taken aboard, I found it quite the comfortable ship. Both Guillotine and I were given quarters usually reserved for officers, and they were quite comfortable, despite the slightly limited headroom that I had to put up with. As we prepared to get underway, I headed out on deck to get some air. The voyage, according to the airship’s captain, would take roughly four hours, an impressive time for an airship. I suppose we were lucky we had a tailwind behind us.
The airship gracefully cleared her moorings and began to depart Equestria’s glittering capital. However, we would not be making the trip to our homeland’s borders alone. While the griffons were allies, it was expected that we were to be given an Equestrian escort to the ocean. I had to let out a laugh when I saw the airship that took station abeam.
You see, when the airships were taken out of mothballs, most of them were simply re-entered into the roster. One however, named the Sunlight, had a rather chequered past. The bottle didn’t break when she was launched, and her career had been plagued by a serious of accidents and mishaps, including an incident when she collided with the Equine State Building in Manehattan as she attempted to dock in a stiff breeze. So it was decided to rechristen her, and give her a fresh start. The matter of a name for her came up when I was helping Celestia with a civil case in Day Court and I offered a couple of suggestions, based on famous British warships like Victory, Indefatigable, and Warrior. I didn’t realise which one Celestia had settled on until now.
“Sir, our Equestrian escort has arrived,” a young griffon lookout said. “It’s one of their refitted warships. The Hood I believe.”
Now, for those of you who don’t know their history. HMS Hood, known in her day as the Mighty Hood, was the battleship sent, along with HMS Prince of Wales, to stop the Bismarck when she came out of harbour to attack allied shipping in the Atlantic. The battle was expected to be long and difficult, but due to poor design (Hood was a retrofitted Great War battleship), the Hood was sunk by Bismarck’s first volley, with only four men surviving. Of course, the Royal Navy’s subsequent vendetta and pursuit across the high seas, which ultimately resulted in Bismarck’s destruction, is a celebrated moment of naval lore. But we’ve never built another ship with that name. I’d told Celestia that sea story, so it surprised me that she’d selected the name. Maybe she was going for ‘what are the odds of that happening again?’. At least she didn’t name it General Belgrano, I suppose.
Anyway, Hood took up station alongside us and signalled their intent to escort us to the border. The two warships sailed gracefully through the peaceful skies. I tell you, if these two ships had been there when the Storm King invaded, his forces wouldn’t have lasted a minute against these great guns.
The next couple of hours were spent watching the world float on by. Heading East, we left Canterlot behind and cruised over middle Equestria, passing all sorts of little towns, farms and settlements. One odd thing caught my eye as we journeyed through the sky, and that was this one small town. On its border was this huge wooden rainbow, sort of like a billboard I guess. But the town itself...it all just seemed grey, as if all the colour had just been sapped out of it. I figured that it must be some kind of trick of the light.
It wouldn’t be until much later that I learned from Twilight that that was Hope Hollow, a town that was very much in need of friendship and magic in equal measure.
Passing between Manehattan and Fillydelphia, we eventually came to the coast of the Eastern Sea. Across that water, connected in the north by a thin strip of land, lay the Griffon Kingdom, a land of dark foreboding mountains, rocky crags and and high peaks. Quite a contrast to the rolling pleasant grasslands of Equestria.
As we reached international waters, about five miles off shore, the Hood signalled that her mission was at an end and in the best maritime traditions, wished us a safe voyage. She then bore away, and before too long disappeared in the thick clouds.
That left us alone in the skies. We encountered the odd ship or two as we cross the ocean, mostly freighters carrying cargo between the two kingdoms. There were certainly no pirates to worry about this far north. They were more a problem in the south, although with the demise of the Storm King, their main employer, the crews were slowly starting to take up more legitimate roles. Privateers for the Hippogriff navy apparently, whilst they rebuilt their own forces. Although for the life of me I don’t see why a species who is able to switch between hippogriff and seapony at will thanks to that pearl, would ever have need of a navy.
Anyway, before too long, we were over the kingdom and beginning our approach into Moscrow. This was the kingdom’s third capital. In the ancient days, the seat of power had been Griffonstone. In the days of the Griffon Empire, it had been Birdlin. But now, with the royal lineage again restored, the government operated from Moscrow, famous for its huge parade squares and the king’s winter palace. In contrast to Equestria, the Griffon Kingdom is more industrialised along the lines of the early twentieth century, with rudimentary internal combustion engines and a thriving heavy mining industry. And unlike Equestria, a good many of these developments had been used as weapons of war. And that included the cruiser on which I now stood.
The Birdsmark docked at a specially designed mooring station close to the palace. Colonel Guillotine had told me that I would first have an audience with Riverbill, who was acting on behalf of the king, a figure seldom seen in public, and would then be taken to speak with the two morons I was here to rescue.
Descending the gangplank, the two of us were met by a pair of officers from the king’s personal security force, who would escort us to the palace. I couldn’t help a twinge of fear as the pair saluted Guillotine.
It didn’t help that they clicked their heels.
The Griffon Imperial Palace, a holdover from the days when the country had an emperor, was the official seat of power and residence of the king, making it the counterpart to Canterlot Castle. Unlike that building though, the palace was a large, Germanic affair, in keeping with the architecture surrounding it. In a way, it reminded me of Colditz, with high walls and towers, as well as the grey and drab exterior.
Following Guillotine inside, I found the interior to be reminiscent of the Bavarian style. The walls were lined with tapestries, paintings and ancient weapons and armour. Riverbill was going to meet with me in one of the large audience chambers, where it was typical for the king and his representatives to meet and entertain guests and diplomatic visitors. I was a little saddened that I was not to meet the king personally, but then again, according to rumours, with his advancing age, he’s apparently grown quite eccentric. Last I heard, he believed himself to be a small village in Lincoltshire, commanding spectacular views of surrounding valley. He also wanted his son, the crown prince, to marry a rose bush.
But that’s by the by. It would be nice to see Riverbill again. Reminders of darker times aside, he was an easy man to get along with, and the two of us had become good friends during his last visit to Canterlot. With any luck, a familiar face might help smooth over the insult caused by this upset. Coming to the large oak double doors, the guards escorting us carefully opened them, and a sentry by the door announced my arrival to Riverbill and the other assembled ministers and military officers. I also noticed a small band on one side of the room.
Now, in Griffon diplomatic protocol, it was expected that any visiting dignitary, particularly when I was coming in Celestia’s stead, would be given the same honours as a visiting ruler. As such, you were subjected to a royal salute from an assembled honour guard. This just involved a short strain of the visitor’s national anthem and, unsurprisingly, a salute. However, I was quite caught off guard when the Equestrian anthem didn’t play.
Evidently, Riverbill had decided to do me a little kindness, although I had no idea where he’d gotten the music from. I must confess though, it had been too long since I’d heard it. It may sound like a funeral march half the time, but when done properly, in can be quite stirring.
After pausing a moment until the band stopped playing, I walked over to Riverbill who was waiting, along with several other griffons, along with their two prisoners. Neither of them looked pretty happy but seemed to be in good shape. I’d been a little concerned about that actually. Like I said, griffon society in general was harsh compared to Equestria, and that extended to their prisons. I was honestly surprised to see no bruising. Evidently they’d been treated remarkably well, considering their crime. Riverbill smiled as I came over, and and I extended a hand in greeting.
“Riverbill, good to see you again,” I said with a smile. Riverbill took my hand carefully in his claw. One of the sentries however, didn’t much care for my informality with the deputy commander of Griffon Defence Forces.
“Hey, you’re addressing the Reichsmarschall!” He snapped sharply. Riverbill smiled.
“It’s quite alright, lieutenant,” he replied, his accent sounding more Russian than anything else. “This human and I are close friends. I permit him this informality.” He then turned back to me. “Sorry about that. Protocol, you understand.” I nodded.
“Of course,” I answered. I gestured to the two pegasi. “I take it these two are the idiots that I am here to collect.”
“Quite correct,” Riverbill said. “And standing with them is the chief of the military police. They are currently in his custody, and ready to be transferred to you.”
The transfer was a simple enough process. The head of the Griffon MPs and I signed a few documents, I re-arrested both guards and informed them that they were being extradited back to Equestria to face charges. Riverbill, along with a few other military types and a few from the Griffon press, looked on quietly. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of shame brought on by the actions of my adopted countrymen. As a couple of sentries began to frog march the two prisoners out to the landing station, where an Equestrian transport would take the three of us home.
“Riverbill,” I said, just before I departed. “I hope you will accept both my and the princesses sincere apologies regarding this incident, and pass them to his majesty, as well as Major Hartwin himself.” Riverbill nodded.
“Of course, my friend,” he said. “I had hoped the major would be here today. I know the two of you were friends when he was stationed in Canterlot. But the doctors insisted he stay in hospital another week. Those two boys really did a number on him.” I scowled.
“And I can assure you, they will be paying for that, very dearly.”
With a final handshake, the two of us parted amicably. I caught up with the two prisoners. One of them, I recognised.
“This is a new low for you, Corporal Sand Dune. I’m just thankful your captain isn’t alive to see it.”
I had no doubt that Strong Shield’s blood would be boiling when he read about this. Sand Dune had been in trouble with the Provost Sergeant more than a few times, once even being subjected to Field Punishment No. 1. This though could very well see him busted back to private if nothing else. The other guard I didn’t recognise, perhaps a newer recruit. It would be Celestia who decided their fate in any case.
I wondered just what punishment she had come up with to assuage the griffons as we departed, bound for Canterlot.
It was a week later before I got an answer. I found myself, along with both guards, Flash Magnus, the current captain who had replaced Mareclellan, and Major Hartwin, who was now more or less recovered from his injuries, although underneath his hide you could see the odd hoof shaped bruise.
We were all gathered in the throne room, the two guards standing before the dais, and the rest of us standing next to the thrones, well out of the proverbial line of fire. Both princesses were present, each sitting in their throne, and neither of them looked happy as the glared down at the pair.
Now, Luna’s anger is very well documented, and has been proved to go quite high in the decibel range. She doesn’t mince words, she just switches to the Royal Canterlot Voice and tells you in no uncertain terms what she thinks of you. Celestia, as a rule, is more subtle, and in a way a lot more scary, as I’ve said many times before. She would keep her calm demeanour, never so much as raising her voice while she verbally eviscerated you and made you feel as if you were an inch tall.
Today though, it seemed, she had finally run out of patience.
“Do you have any idea of the trouble you have caused me?!” she bellowed in a deep voice that felt as if it shook the castle walls. “I had to send my own advisor to retrieve you, because your disgraceful behaviour had made the griffons unwilling to even accept a pony being sent to retrieve you!”
Neither guard said anything, both wishing no doubt, that the floor would open up and swallow them.
“You have brought shame on your country and the Royal Guard! But worse than that, you brought the same on my sister and I! You realise you could have been hanged?! And for what, some foalish sense of pride in a backstreet birdbrain drinking pit?!”
Celestia does have quite the flair for language when she chooses to. She swears very well too, in several languages. Luna now stepped in.
“And that’s not even counting the political fallout,” she added furiously. “The griffons are considering abandoning the officer exchange program because of this incident. Combined with the incident at Twilight Sparkle’s school, griffons are now starting to view ponies as uncivilised, xenophobic brutes. All because you couldn’t accept it when you were cut off and should have crawled home.”
Sand Dune now desperately tried to make excuses, quite possibly regretting coming back to Equestria.
“Princesses,” he said lamely, in a very subdued voice. “We didn’t mean for...” Celestia cut him off.
“QUIET!” she roared, making both guards start in fright and shiver in abject fear.
The normally serene alicorn snorted in disgust. She glared at the two cowering morons a few moments longer, before her usual calm nature reasserted itself. Luna now passed judgement on the younger and more junior guard.
“Silver Cloud,” she said sternly. “Ordinarily, I would submit you to the Gauntlet until your white hide turned red with your blood. But sister tells me that such practices are no longer permitted in the guard. So we shall settle for softer tactics. You are hereby placed on continuous watch for the next thirty six hours, and you will send reports to me personally, on the hour, every hour. In addition, you will forfeit one month’s pay and shall be stripped of all privileges for sixty days. And if I catch you sleeping on watch, I shall have that doubled. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y...ye...yes...pr...prin...princess,” Silver Cloud stuttered desperately. Luna was unmoved.
“Then why are you still here?” she asked coldly, her tone acidic. “To your post, whelp!”
Silver Cloud quickly took flight, all but flying out of the room to take up his post. It would be a challenge for anypony to manage thirty six hours, but I didn’t think for a moment that Luna’s threat to double it was an idle one.
“Now,” Celestia went on, turning her ire towards Sand Dune. “What do we do with you, Sand Dune? It has become abundantly clear to me from reading your file, and seeing the number of reprimands on your record, that simple loss of earnings and privileges are not going to get through to you. So let us try something a little more emphatic.
“I wish for you to relay a message to the Provost Sergeant when you go and see him in a moment. You will report to him and say ‘Provost Sergeant. I have not met the standards of behaviour for a member of the Royal Guard.’. And when he asks you why, you will say, ‘Mind your own bucking business’. Understand?”
Sand Dune was stumped by his commander’s odd request. It was actually a very traditional punishment, having badly behaved troops deliver rude messages to get them in trouble. It was certainly never a good idea to piss off the provost sergeant, the only pony the guards feared more than their immortal alicorn rulers.
“Princess?” he asked, actually struggling to avoid laughing at the order he’d been given.
“Do not laugh!” Luna boomed. “This is not a funny matter. Now tell us what you will say!”
“Mind your own bucking business, sergeant.” Celestia smiled.
“Don’t even say sergeant,” she added.
And so, I got to watch a car crash unfold, all from the comfort of my office, which from one window, you could see the parade square, where the guard room (a sort of police station for the regimental police) stood. Celestia declined to come and watch the fireworks she’d lit, but Discord was more than happy to join in, along with Major Hartwin himself, who was eager to see the disgraced guard get what was coming to him. He even brought popcorn for the both of us as we watched from the open window.
Sand Dune marched across the square and reported himself to the provost sergeant, who had a couple of his cronies with him.
“Well? Speak to me!” the sergeant ordered gruffly. “What are you doing here, corporal?” Sand Dune swallowed.
“I am here, because I have not met the standards of behaviour for a member of the Royal Guard,” he said.
“And why is that?” the provost asked. Sand Dune braced himself.
“Mind your own bucking business.”
You could have heard a pin drop across the entire square. For a moment, the look on the provost sergeant’s face was one of complete and total confusion. Surely nopony could be that stupid, right? A moment later though, confusion turned the righteous fury,
“Say that again,” he said quietly. “And say it loud.” Sand Dune did nothing.
“Go on! Bucking say it again!” the provost bellowed.
“Mind your own bucking business!” Sand Dune bellowed back.
“Is that right, Sand Dune?!” he snapped, turning to his subordinates. “We’ve got a bucking comedian here! I’ve never, ever, ever, ever, been told to mind my own bucking business! Of all the ponies, of all the bucking ponies in this castle, you have the balls to tell me to mind my own bucking business!”
While the shouting was intended to invoke fear, and it did, it also invoked the response of causing Sand Dune to grin and giggle in fright. That didn’t help his case as the provost barked orders to his men.
“Are you bucking laughing at me? That’s it! Gentlecolts, we have a crucifixion!”
“Ooh, this is gonna be good,” Discord said, revelling in the disharmony. Hartwin too seemed to be taking some measure of enjoyment at his tormentor’s plight. I, on the other hoof, couldn’t help but feel sorry for the idiot, since I knew precisely what crucifixion was. They weren’t going to nail him to anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.
Two of the provost sergeant’s men fetched three steel drums from a storage shed. Two were placed alongside Sand Dune, and one behind him. He was ordered to climb up onto them, putting his hind hooves on the single drum at the back, and putting a wing on each one at his side. His forelegs dangled in the air as he held himself in the pegasi equivalent of a press up. Painful enough on its own, but the provost was about to make it so much worse.
“Alright you two,” he said. “Start moving those drums apart.”
The two guards slowly pulled them drums further and further away, making it that much harder for Sand Dune to hold himself up. In short order, he went from slight pain to absolute agony. His face turned red and his wings began to shake as they struggled to hold his weight.
“Back off, lads, back off,” the provost ordered. “Let him suffer it, let him suffer it.”
Sweat was now pouring down Sand Dune’s hide as the provost lectured him further.
“This is crucifixion!” he said. “You let all those little buggers in your section know, that nopony comes down to the guard room and tells me to mind my own bucking business! Do you understand?”
“Sergeant!” Sand Dune shouted back.
“It is not right to tell the provost sergeant to mind his own bucking business, is it?”
“Sergeant!”
Are you sure you understand?!”
“Sergeant!”
“Tell me properly, do you bucking understand?!”
“SERGEANT!”
Finally, the provost relented.
“Get off my bucking drums, you miserable feather duster, and put them back over there!”
Sand Dune gratefully let himself down and, with still shaking limbs, carried the drums back behind the shed. The provost let him go after that. Message received, loud and clear I think. Hartwin certainly seemed to agree and he was happy to let the matter lie with no further action. His subsequent report to his government resulted in the same reaction from the Griffon authorities.
And so, another little diplomatic crisis was averted and I had another case under my belt. While he will never be a model guard, I can say that, since that day, Sand Dune hasn’t found himself in front of the provost again.
Now if only I’d been allowed to do the same thing for my next case.