Being the primary physician at Canterlot Palace, Malar knew that he had a lot of responsibilities on his plate when it came to keeping a lot of ponies healthy and taken care of.
He also knew that a lot of the cases he tended to in his work were of the routine sort. Sprains, occasional broken bones, random but mundane illnesses, exhaustion, burns, etc. that sort of thing. There was a certain stability that came with that routine.
It was because of that routine nature of his work, that he had a very good idea of what his morning was going to consist of when he heard the double swinging doors to the infirmary opening at this time of day. He knew it as soon as he heard the doors swing open, and the familiar hoofstep pattern that he'd been hearing a lot of these past few days.
"Good morning, Doctor Malar."
If nothing else, at least his patient was polite in addition to being punctual and professional. It was hard to get all three of them together in one pony.
"Thunder Strike," he replied in a suppressed huff as he turned around to face the stallion. "Please tell me you're here for something different this time. A strained muscle, a hangover, a possible STD, anything."
Day after day, ever since he returned from his stay at Canterlot General Hospital, he'd been making his way to the infirmary without fail to see about getting certified as fit to return to service and active duty. Some might call his dedication admirable to his job admirable.
He preferred to call it what it really was; stupid. There was no way Thunder was in any condition to go back on guard duty anytime soon, regardless of what he might say to the contrary.
"I'd be dishonest if I said something like that," Thunder stated simply.
"I suppose you would be," Malar acknowledged. "I'm still not signing off on you returning to active duty, though. You're nowhere near being fit for it."
"Doctor-"
"I examined you myself when you returned. You were just barely fit enough to be released from Canterlot General. I don't even know how you made it back to the palace on your own."
"I teleported-"
"That's not the point," Malar interrupted again. "You're unfit for duty, I'd be violating my oath if I put you back to work in your condition."
"The dangers that we stand against won't wait for us to be in prime physical condition before presenting themselves," Thunder countered. "You aren't the only who one swore an oath that has to be upheld. A Guard must always be ready for what may come, regardless of their circumstances."
"Which is all the more reason you need time to properly rest, recuperate, and recover before going back to the work that almost killed you," Malar pointed out. "You're not doing yourself any favors by trying to force yourself back into service before you're ready. If anything your stubbornness is only setting your recovery back rather than expediting it; you'll be down for even longer if you don't stop trying to prove you're ready when you're obviously not."
Thunder opened his mouth to retort, but found it closed again by Malar's magic coming into play.
"The equine body can only withstand so much abuse before it eventually reaches its limits and quits, and no amount of stubborn will can force it to go beyond those limits. And going by your records from the hospital, you were very close to that point by the time you got to them. And why? Because you refused to heed the warning signs that you were at your limits," he continued.
Thunder had no immediate response. Both because of the magic that was still in play, and because there were no words that he could offer up.
"Even after being at death's door, you're still trying to force more performance out of a body that's simply not up to the task. And I just don't understand why; it's almost like you have a death wish or something. Any other pony would be reevaluating things, but you just keep trying to soldier ahead without a second thought, without any regard for your own well being. What is it going to take to convince you to stop trying to be Captain Equestria, and take some time off to just relax!?"
"I don't know how to..."
The statement had been as soft as it was simple, suddenly leaving Malar the quiet one of the two when his magic fizzled out.
"I'm... sorry? What now?" he asked.
"... I shouldn't have said that," Thunder mumbled and shook his head, before looking back forward again. "Doctor Malar, I promise I'll cut back to just working one shift a day for a while. I won't take anymore overtime until you're certain I'm fit for it. But please, please let me go back to doing what I know how to do. I don't know how to do this, just... sitting around and doing nothing for hours at a time. How am I supposed to relax? How can I relax, when not working is just making me feel stressed over the fact that others are having to compensate for my absence?"
Malar blinked, not sure how to immediately respond. He knew that Thunder was a workaholic, and he was certain the entire palace knew that same fact. But what he was hearing right now, from a stallion practically begging to be sent back to work, just hammered home how bad the situation really was, and how big of a problem this could actually be.
"I'm sorry, but I just can't do that," he replied and slowly shook his head. "The physical strain of standing for even eight hours at a time, along with carrying the full weight of your guard armor, is just too much physical strain for your heart to bear right now. If I let you go back to work, it'd only be a matter of time before you suffered cardiac arrest. And this time there wouldn't be anything we could do to save you. You might make it three days, you might make it two weeks, but eventually it'd happen regardless," he explained.
This time Thunder had no verbal response to offer up. Although it was easy to see the turmoil playing out on his face and in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, but the only way you're ever going to be fit to return to duty again, is if you stop trying to be a guard all of the time. You need time away from your work, both mentally and physically, in order to recover. That's the entire point behind medical leave; so a patient actually can get well enough to go back to work," he stressed.
Not a word. Not a peep. Not even a blink. Thunder's face was utterly unreadable in the wake of this. It was a poker face is Malar had ever seen one. And he utterly hated it when his patients could pull that off, as it made his job all the harder to do properly.
"I apologize for wasting your time, Doctor Malar."
He really didn't like the sound of that statement. There was no sarcasm, no snottiness, no aggressiveness, no despair just... utter emptiness, as if he was broken to the point of not being able to feel anything.
And now he was the one who was rendered silent as Thunder slowly turned and left the infirmary without a single word, without making any effort to try and argue further. Something told him that hadn't heard the end of this, and this was far from actually being over.
Opal Elegance looked at the assignment sheet in front of her for today, her pale blue eyes flicking from line to line as she tried to mentally calculate whether or not she had the strength that she'd need to actually get through everything before nightfall.
"This is... something else," she noted softly. "You ponies up here in Canterlot actually do this sort of work every single day?"
Like other crystal ponies, she had long wondered about how much the outside world had changed in the thousand years their empire had been gone from Equestria, trapped in Sombra's limbo and immune to the passage of time.
Unlike other crystal ponies, however, she'd concluded the best way to learn about the outside world was to travel and experience it for herself firsthoof.
So what had she done to achieve that goal? Why, she'd made the decision to haul her lavender gradient mane and snowy white coated self all the way up to Canterlot to work as a maid at the palace, of course!
It'd seemed like a good idea at the time. Being a maid at one palace couldn't really be all that different from being a maid at one palace, could it?
If she knew then what she knew now, she would've kicked herself for thinking such a naive thought.
The culture shock really hadn't been as jarring as she'd anticipated it being. With the number of visitors the Crystal Empire got since its return, little bits of the outside world had crept their way in and made it possible for them to start learning about things. And the royal couple had done wonders for working to sate their curiosity about so many different things.
"Pretty much," her coworker, a unicorn maid by the name of Dust Bunny, confirmed and nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Why? Does the Crystal Empire do things differently?"
"I guess you could say that?" Opal replied.
The change in culture had been one thing. The change in the commonly spoken language another. But the different ways each kingdom, really each palace, went about doing things like basic cleaning? That was what had really thrown her. And the sheer difference in terms of the scale of the respective palaces didn't really help that matter either.
That, and some of the palace residents made her feel really uneasy to be around.
"It's just..." she paused as she looked at the assignment sheet again, "the crystalline structure of the palace possessed a polarized charge that made it impossible for things like dust and graffiti paint to really stick to anything. Cleaning was more focused on textiles and the floors than things like... walls. And ceilings. And hanging light fixtures," she explained.
Dust Bunny -Dusty as she insisted on being called- couldn't help but give a friendly chuckle in response.
"That does sound nice. But sadly we savages up here in Canterlot have to do things the old-fashioned way," she stated. "Don't worry, though, the cleaning staff is well stocked with ponies. You'll do fine."
Opal could do little more than offer a friendly, appreciative smile. She was thankful that she wasn't alone in all of this, being thrown to the timberwolves as it were. At least for now, she'd be operating alongside the more experienced maids as they helped her learn the ropes of how things were done here in Canterlot.
It was a simple enough plan, a simple enough course of action. But one that was halted as they were approached by another pony -a stallion- coming down the hall that she didn't immediately recognize, but felt there was something familiar about him nonetheless.
"Oh. Hey there, Thunder," Dusty greeted in a friendly tone.
"Hello, Dust Bunny."
"Just Dusty is fine," Dusty all but insisted in a tone that suggested she'd had this exchange far too many times already. "You're looking better. How're you doing?"
"Doctor Malar said that I'm still not fit to return to duty yet," Thunder explained.
"Oh? Well that's too bad," Dusty replied, sounding genuinely unhappy about the news. "Maybe next time?"
"Perhaps. All I can do is keep trying," Thunder replied. "Dust Bunny, tell me something. Could you or the other maids on duty use an extra set of hooves?"
"Are you offering to help us with cleaning the palace?" Dusty asked, sounding uncertain if what she was hearing was accurate.
"Sitting around and doing nothing doesn't sit right with me. It feels wrong to not be occupied with work," Thunder replied in a non-answer.
"I don't really know," Dusty replied uneasily. "Opal, whadda you think about letting Thunder pitch in and lend a hoof?"
Opal blinked, only now remembering that she was actually there for the conversation and technically a part of it.
"I think he might look cute in a maid's dress," she replied without thinking, only to squeak in embarrassment and blush in response at hearing what she'd just said. "T-that wasn't what I meant to say!"
Regardless of her slip up, Dusty snorted and was reduced to a fit of giggles all the same. All the while Thunder didn't even quirk an eyebrow in response.
"Alright, Thunder, I'm sure we can find something you can do to help. Faust knows there's enough work to go around here," she stated once she composed herself. "Come on, we've got an entire palace to clean, and it's not going to clean itself!"
Thunder immediately snapped to attention in response and brought his right foreleg up in a salute. "Yes, Ma'am!"
"And cut that out! Ponies are going to stare if you do that," Dusty added.
All Opal could do in response was shake her head, and wonder if she she'd made the right choice in coming up here to work. Canterlot was... weird.