“Do you love me too?”
That was the question Silverstream asked Gallus. Everything else was silent. When he felt his heart start beating again, Gallus could think of an answer. It was true. He did say “love you too” back that winter, but he wasn’t thinking when he responded to what he heard.
But that was months ago; things have changed since then. After taking a deep breath, Gallus looked Silverstream in her glistening eyes. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t really thinking at the time either, but… not getting your letters for the last few months, I realised how much you meant to me.”
Gallus then remembered and quickly went into his room to grab the stack of envelopes he had brought to show Silverstream. Some in his stack were torn open from the top, with the letters safely inside them. Others remained sealed, just as he promised her. “I missed how you wrote, how you were doing, our friends, what you thought about me. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”
Silverstream smiled, pleased to see he kept each letter she sent. She pulled out and revealed a stack of envelopes to Gallus, some visibly opened and some not. Still, each Gallus recognised as being written by himself. “Me too.”
It filled Gallus with content that Silverstream kept all the letters he wrote, as he had with all of hers. He even found it sweet that she kept them safely stored under her wings, like how he’d sneak in letters through the Academy.
As he sat back down, he noticed again how both their piles of envelopes had some unopened. “Why didn’t you want me to open these?” he asked curiously.
That was when Silverstream’s smile faded. “Well, remember how you wrote to me saying you wanted to meet up in Canterlot?” she said before her eyes narrowed and her voice deepened. “Then I went to Canterlot, and you didn’t?”
That was the moment Gallus was dreading, Silverstream staring daggers at him. “Yeah, Smolder filled me in on that,” he timidly answered, rubbing the area of his shoulder where the young orange dragon punched him. He lowered his head in shame. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in Canterlot, but it’s not entirely my fault that that postal worker took the letter that said you were gonna be there…”
“I know, doesn’t change the fact I was upset… that after finally saying what I feel, I felt humiliated…” she huddled up into a ball on the sofa, her voice started to break as she continued. “Doesn’t change the fact that I got mad not knowing why you didn’t show up or write back to me,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to blame you, but I didn’t know what happened until Yona got that letter.”
Her eyes widened.“I was worried if you read my letters now, you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.”
Gallus looked down at the envelopes in his claws, shuffling through them. He couldn’t tell which of the unopened envelopes was which, but it was clear one of them was written when she was sad, but the others she was mad at him.
His lower break quivered. He appreciated the honesty, but he also felt concerned. The pair had been writing to each other without delay for several months, but the moment there was no response, she assumed the worst. Who knows how long he was hated before he managed to tell her and everyone else the truth.
But he turned to see Silverstream, still huddled in her ball, crying but trying to hide it. It was clear she didn’t want to hate him; she didn’t want to blame him. It made him feel like he wasn’t the only one who made a mistake.
He held the unopened letters in front of Silverstream at her eye level. She looked at them before turning to Gallus and revealing her watery eyes. “Forget about these ones”, he said, “I’d rather read the letters you write when you’re happy.”
She smiled and wiped away her tears. “I’ll find the time to write some more.” She took the envelopes from Gallus’s claws and put them aside before looking down at her pile of envelopes. She picked through the unopened ones. “Do you want any of yours back?” she offered, holding them before him. “It’s only fair I’d give you a chance before I’d read something you regret writing.”
“Actually, now you mention it, I put a photo of me in one of those envelopes…”
Gallus reached over to the envelopes, but Silverstream’s ears launched upwards when he mentioned a photo of him. “There is?!” she exclaimed, pulling the envelopes away and growing a wide shimmering grin with glee. As she hurriedly held up the envelopes to the ceiling light, she shifted through each one by one until she discovered one with a noticeable dark spot that most likely held more than a single sheet of paper inside. “Oh, I’m keeping that one!”
“Wait, what?!” A shocked Gallus tried to reach for the envelope in vain to take it back, but Silverstream managed to hold him back and keep it beyond arm’s length, giggling the whole time. “You said it’s “only fair” to have mine back!”
The cheeky hippogriff stuck her tongue out. “I said it for writing, not taking pictures”, she quipped. “Besides, I bet your friends saw the photo I gave you.”
There was a brief hesitation; Gallus remembered his friends snatching the photo of her when they were on the train together. “Maybe?” The hesitation was short-lived as he went back into trying to grab the envelope back before Silverstream opened it and witnessed the photo of him dressed in a fancy military uniform. He didn’t want to think of the untold things Silverstream would do with that.
Suddenly, the pair lost their balance and fell over in the ensuing struggle. Silverstream landed on the sofa on her back across the cushions, her head barely missing an armrest. Meanwhile, Gallus was on top of her, his outstretched arms and his knees digging into the cushions, the only parts holding him up to avoid pressing into Silverstream.
Exhausted, their eyes locked, beaks inches from each other. Each could feel a spark ignite and a warming glow. All the unease had drifted away then, and a sense of comfort took place. They were alone, yet together and close together. They were motionless, yet they felt like they were floating in space, being pulled closer and closer and…
“BLARGH!”
Meanwhile, Nicknames wasn’t doing so well, even after spewing out the contents of his stomach into the thorny bush he crashed into. On top of his dizziness, he felt pins and needles across his body and his wings limp. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have tried flying,” he lamented regretfully.
He tried to walk away from wherever he had landed, but every step forward veered to his left. Every step back shifted him right, and the directions would reverse on every other step. He couldn’t tell what part of the island he was on. He could hear flowing water, but the ground was neither sand nor stone, so he couldn’t be near the coast.
There was another sound he could hear, a calm and soothing hum. Its pitch changed ever so slightly, as did its direction. It gave the sound of a gentle and slowly evolving melody. If Nicknames was in heaven, he wondered why it was so dark and why he was walking on grass instead of fluffy clouds.
“Hey!”
Nicknames’ ears perked, and somepony else was nearby. He looked up and saw the silhouette of a creature with wings making a descent. Could this be an angel?
“There you are,” Scythe said in relief as he landed on the grassy surface. Clearly not an angel.
“Where am I?”
“Harmonising Heights, by the sounds of it. You look rough,” he remarked, seeing the dirt, grazes, the vomit drooling off his lips and how crooked both his mane and wings were.
Disappointed, Nicknames leered. “I’m fine…” he pouted. He could only assume that either Scythe came to find him because he had to or to criticise Nicknames further. As such, he tried to walk away from him.
Yet Scythe persisted and flew in front of him. “You’re not. Sit down,” he advised calmly.
“I said I’m fi- “
“You’re drunk, hit the ground hard, and I can see you’ve thrown up,” Scythe asserted, boring his eyes into Nicknames’. “Sit. Down.”
Learning from moments ago, Nicknames sat down, his flank creating a loud thud onto the grassy floor.
Scythe then began to move around him, prodding him around his body. His arms, his sides, his wings, his head. “You feel that?” he asked each time, but Nicknames gave nothing but a small groan.
Scythe figured Nicknames still had feeling in most parts of his body. Whilst standing behind, Scythe tried to poke his ear as one last test. Each time his hoof touched the ear, it flicked his hoof away, an automatic response. Scythe sighed in relief, figuring Nicknames’ psychological responses worked fine.
“Does this hurt?”
“No…”
No obvious pain. Scythe reached into his satchel, pulled out the flask of salmon juice that he picked up at the apartment and placed himself directly in front of his fellow pony.
“See this?” he asked, holding the flask to Nicknames’ face.
Furrowing his brow, Nicknames could see the flask in front of him. He wasn’t sure why Scythe was slowly moving the flask from side to side, but his eyes were indeed following it.
“Yeah?”
“Good, you need to drink this.”
“It’s not a ‘ghost drink’, is it?” Nicknames asked cautiously.
“Ghost drink?” Scythe tilted his head to one side.
“You know, it looks like nothing, smells like nothing, but drink it, and you’ll get drunk in seconds.”
“You mean Spirits?” Scythe noticed Nicknames glaring and assumed there was a joke. But to Scythe, this wasn’t a joking matter; he knew Nicknames needed to be hydrated, or he would get worse. “This is salmon juice. It’s safe. Drink it.”
Not wanting to start another argument, Nicknames grabbed the flask, held it up, and drank it all. He could taste the salmon juice instantly. It was lightly cold but left a pleasant palate down his gullet. In a matter of seconds, Nicknames could notice his vision started to clear, and his head felt lighter.
“Better?” Nicknames nodded. “Good, I also have a carrot burger in here. It’s probably cold, but your system also needs food.”
Nicknames raised an eyebrow. “How did you become such a medical expert?” He was perplexed at how detailed Scythe was being just checking on him.
“We learned first aid in the Academy and Junior Cadets, remember?” Scythe replied.
“I remember classes on treating stab wounds and broken bones, but not anything about handling drunk ponies.”
Scythe paused; he hoped Nicknames’ memory was fuzzy enough not to catch him out. “My mum was in the Medic Corps, army doctor,” he answered.
A bulb lit up above Nicknames’ head. “Oh yeah, military family,” he remarked, recalling a discussion they all had during Exercise Self-Reliance back in the first term of the Academy.
Scythe continued. “I watched her care for my older brother when he celebrated too hard at his graduation party years ago,” he admitted. “She was mad at him because he nearly got in trouble and hurt himself. It’s why I don’t drink myself, in case I get carried away too.”
As Scythe sat beside him, Nicknames looked down at the empty flask. He knew he got carried away. He looked at the scratches along his arms because he was selfish, even to the one pony who went out of his way to help him. “I really am a careless, stupid jerk…” he somberly accepted.
“Nick, I didn’t mean- “
“‘Hey, see that pony over there, speaking gobbledygook to his book? Yeah, that’s Mumbles. Stay away unless you want to be weird like him,’” Nicknames blurted out in a mock imitation of another Junior Cadet. “That’s what the other ponies said about you, and I believed them. I thought they’d be my friends. Except none of them were after junior cadets were over. Even Wind Breaker hasn’t written back to me since he D.O.R’d ages ago.”
Scythe remembered Wind Breaker, the Manehatten Pegasus that quit the Academy after four weeks. Both he and Nicknames shared a dorm together. Nicknames wasn’t happy that he left but was surprised they stopped talking.
Nicknames continued. “Now here I am, and the only ponies who put up with me all think I’m stupid,” he threw the flask on the ground in frustration.
“They don’t think that.”
“Course they do. They all know better. Dusty was in the Wonderbolt Academy, Steppin’ Time has a University degree, Bluebird has his wit and street smarts, and you… well, you know all the answers, even back at the Junior Cadets. Remember the name of that tightass drill sergeant?”
It didn’t take Scythe to guess the name. “Bullhorn…” Sergeant Bullhorn was a strict pegasus who lacked restraint even when working with teenagers. He recalled how, before break time, he’d make the cadets line up and pick a pony at random to ask a question based on a lesson that day. If the pony got it wrong, every pony had to do sit-ups.
“That’s the one,” Nicknames said. “I remember when Sergeant Bullhorn would make us all stand in a line to do that stupid question game of his? He asked: ‘What’s the sixth general order of an E.U.P. Guard?’ and you knew the answer right away.”
Putting aside the gravelly impersonation of the Sergeant, the story made Scythe curious. “I did?” he queried, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I’d see you mumble it in the corner of my eye”, Nicknames pointed out, which only caused Scythe to lower his head in embarrassment. “So, I gave you a whack of the flank to get Sergeant Bullhorn’s attention. He’d say, “Scythe, answer the question or start doing wing-ups!” and you say…”
“The sixth general order is to receive, obey, and pass on to the sentry who relieves me all orders from the commanding officer, command duty officer, officer of the day, officer of the deck, and officers and petty officers of the watch only.”
Scythe recited the answer exactly how he would have said it back in the Junior Cadets. “See! You still know it,” Nicknames acknowledged, although he left out how Scythe's voice would have trembled at the time.
“I remember. I thought you only did that so other ponies would make fun of me.”
“Nah, I just wanted Bullhorn to let us go and have a break. It was easier to make the smart ponies give the answers,” Nicknames admitted with an awkward laugh before shifting to a bitter grumble. “Probably why that tightass caught on to it. No idea how ponies like you could remember all those answers.”
Scythe thought for a moment. He was tempted to shrug, but he remembered already telling Nicknames about why he reads books the way he does. “Languages were what helped me”, he began to explain. “I used to write down things and work out how to say it in another language. I studied enough to say whole sentences in most pony ones.”
This made Nicknames curious. “Like what? If Bullhorn told you to give the answer in… I don’t know, Espoñol?”
“La sexta orden general es recibir, obedecer y pasar al centinela que me releve todas las órdenes sólo del oficial al mando, del oficial de servicio al mando, del oficial de día, del oficial de cubierta y tanto de los oficiales como de los suboficiales de la guardia...” Scythe didn’t even skip a beat when he nonchalantly recited the sixth general order in Sponish. He turned to see Nicknames’ widened eyes and gave a casual salute. “Señor.”
“Woah, that’s freaking cool.”
Scythe didn’t expect that reaction.
“Is it?”
“Yeah, you really know your lingo,” said Nicknames, giving Scythe a friendly light punch in the arm. “That’s a talent, right there.”
“I figured you’d find it weird.”
“Why would I think that?”
Scythe’s eyes narrowed. “You thought taking Prench classes at school was boring, useless, and those who could recite stuff in Prench were weird.” He felt Nicknames needed another reminder of what he had been saying at the Academy.
Nicknames gave a nervous chuckle. He did remember. “Honestly, I only said that ‘cause it’s easier than saying I sucked at school,” he admitted as his excuse. “Kept getting bad grades. Mom said I’d be pulling levers at a weather factory for the rest of my life unless I did something about it.”
“So, your mom is why you got into the Royal Guard Academy?”
“Not exactly”, Nicknames replied, scratching his head again. “Don’t laugh, but I first applied to Cloudsdale University in Engineering…” Outside the Harmonising Heights' rhythmic hums, there was an odd silence. Nicknames furrowed his brow as he saw Scythe with an incredibly neutral, humourless expression.
“You’re not laughing.”
“You told me not to.”
Feeling sheepish, Nicknames continued. “Yeah, I didn’t like reading books on engineering, so I didn’t get in. But I liked reading comic books about soldiers fighting battles, using big cool weapons to fight bad guys. It reminded me why I wanted to attend Junior Cadets, so I applied for the Royal Guard Academy and barely passed the entrance exam.”
Realisation dawned on Scythe, “Ah, you can go into the Royal Armoured Brigade,” he figured it out. It made sense with how much Nicknames liked the cannons on the Navy ship, given they were more accurate than the ones in the comic books Scythe had seen him read from time to time.
But Nicknames had a disappointed look on his face. “Nah, I didn’t put them down as a choice. It’s an earth pony regiment, after all,” he grumbled with his arms folded. “How would any pony expect a stupid, careless jerk like me to handle heavy weapons?”
Knowing that their friend is a griffon who wants to be a Canterlot Royal Guard, Scythe wasn’t sure if Nicknames didn’t see Gallus as a griffon or was so discouraged he didn’t think the logic could apply to him. He could point it out but had a better idea to change his mind.
“Hey Nick, how did you figure out how far the cannonball fired out of the cannon?”
Nickname raised his head, thinking, what on earth was Scythe talking about? “You mean on the Navy ship?” he asked, and Scythe nodded. “I guessed?” Unsure of what Scythe was playing at, he shrugged.
“I mean, that gunner Sonicboom told me the weight of the round and the amount of gunpowder in the chamber. From that, I knew the force being pushed against the round when the cannon goes bang, meaning I knew the speed. Combined with gravity, I figured a 16-kilo stone cannonball would go one and a half miles before it hit the water. Even then, I could have been off since the cannon was above the water, and I didn’t know what the wind was like outside that gunnery room.”
After he finished talking, he noticed something weird in the corner of his eye. Scythe was smiling, hiding it poorly behind his hoof. Nicknames was concerned by the rare sight. “What? Why are you smiling at me like that?”
Scythe put his hoof down. “You’re not stupid,” he stated, raised and as clearly as he could. “You know more about heavy weapons than most ponies. It’s a good start for the Royal Armoured Brigade.”
While unsure at first, Nicknames slowly realised Scythe was right. He may have struggled at subjects he didn’t like, but when it came to weapons, they were as clear and detailed to him as the pages of a book. All this time, he felt the one pony that understood him was one he’d long pass off as a quiet, timid weirdo. “Heh, now I wish we talked like this ages ago,” he chuckled.
“Yeah, me too,” Scythe replied, wishing he had friends like Nicknames years ago. He probably wouldn’t have been bullied.
Empathising, Nicknames put an arm around Scythe’s shoulder and pulled him in. “Look, I’m sorry about picking on you and stuff,” he said sincerely. “Maybe from now on I could help you out if other ponies are being a problem, and maybe you could help me be not stupid?” he then held up his other hoof towards Scythe, inviting him to bump it. “Friends?”
Scythe bit his lip at first. He wasn’t sure if Nicknames was serious. It’s not like Nicknames was this nice before. But then again, after their talk, he figured Nicknames would benefit from helping Scythe out. He’d probably have to share his secret with him at some point, but that could wait. “Friends,” Scythe answered, bumping Nicknames’ hoof.
The two continued to sit in the grass, taking in the melodic harmony of the heights while stars glistened in the night sky. Two stars appeared to move, with dark-winged figures following them. Both winged figures swooped down and landed hard on the grass.
Scythe’s eyes went wide as he recognised both from the dark; those “stars” were torches, and the two figures were pegasus ponies.
“There you are!” exclaimed Lightning Dust, her face creased with anger after spending hours flying around the island's peak. Pound Sterling was beside her, staring daggers at Nicknames for making her look around every tree in Hippogriffia.
Nicknames felt his heart stop and sweat pour down his head. He thought he was about to get killed by two angry mares if he didn’t say the right thing. “Oh, hey Lightning Dust, Pound Sterling, sorry I wandered off,” he said with a slight wave and a shaky smile.
“Oh, you better be sorry! We’ve been looking…” Suddenly, Lighting Dust stopped, and her jaw hung open. Something didn’t feel right that just caught up with her. “Wait… what did you call us?”
“Your names?” Nicknames answered nervously, but then he paused and tilted his head with doubt. “Those are your names, right?”
The two mares looked at each other, confused at what they heard from Nicknames. “Yeah, they are.” Neither had heard Nicknames refer to them by their real names, let alone anything other than the same nicknames they were used to hearing from him.
They also knew something else was amiss, given the rough state he appeared to be in. He tried to stand up from his seated position but tilted so far to one side that he almost stumbled into the nearby stream had Scythe not caught him. “I really need to head back to that apartment and sleep,” said Nicknames, aware of how tipsy and exhausted he was.
“Hey, if you want to have fun tonight, though, there’s a cool club down the coast,” he then recommended to the two mares, pointing towards the flashing lighthouse at the edge of the coastline, “just be nice to the manager because she’s not had a good evening so far.”
First, he was polite, then offered his friends a good night out to make up for it. Both Lighting Dust and Pound Sterling weren’t sure if Scythe was standing by an imposter. Still, they couldn’t pass on a chance to party on the final evening. “Uh, sure. Guess you’ll carry him home, Mumbles?”
Scythe was about to answer, albeit timidly. But Nicknames had another lightbulb shine above him. “Oh yeah! That reminds me. Scythe, Mumbles is a dumb nickname for you,” stated Nicknames, giving Scythe a gentle prod. “You need something better.”
He then pulled Scythe in and hosted him with his forehooves dangling on the ground as he pitched the new nickname. “Here me out, how about Lingo!” He tried to give the name some pizazz with a smooth voice, spanning a hoof across the stars like a grand reveal. All he got instead was a confuzzled audience. “Since you know all the lingo, ‘cause it’s in that big head of yours,” he complained, unfazed as he ruffled Scythe’s mane.
Scythe couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds corny. I like it...” he confessed. It was weird, not very cool, but no one in the pony military gets a cool nickname, and at least he felt more like a Lingo than a Mumbles.
“Alreet?” Pound Sterling still couldn’t wrap her head around what she was seeing, but there was that fantastic plan that Nicknames and Lightning Dust brought up. “Uz two are gonna check out this club. See you an’ Lingo tomorrah mornin’, ah guess.”
Nicknames gave a nod and a wonky salute. “Goodnight, ladies~” both he and Scythe walked out through the entrance of the Harmonizing Heights.
Both Sterling and Dust continued to watch until the other two were no longer in sight, still puzzled at Nicknames’ sudden change in behaviour.
“What the hay was that about?”
“‘Ow should I know? Maybe Nick was ‘napped an’ replaced with a nicer pony?
Later the following morning, everyone, along with Gallus and Silverstream, was at the train station. Each of them was up and awake, although Nicknames had a bad headache, not to mention the aches and pains, needing both of his wings bandaged from the crash and burnout last night.
The station platform was virtually empty, which made the experience calm and peaceful. It also made an opportune moment for Silverstream to hear many fun stories at the Royal Guard Academy. From their tough sergeant to the obstacle course, flying through thunderstorms, wandering onto an acorn orchard, and even meeting Gallus’ “sisters” Gabby and Gilda.
In the distance, a single train approached the station, cutting through the low tide and making waves on either side. “There it is,” Silverstream remarked as the train stopped and opened its carriage doors. “Hope you tell all your friends how amazing Mount Aris and Seaquestria are!”
She held her gleeful grin as she turned to Gallus. “As for you, I want to read every update about what you and your buddies get up to,” she said, pressing a talon on his beak and sticking her tongue out. “That’s an order.”
“Got it,” Gallus replied. He was glad he had a chance to make amends. He had an idea of what he could write once he returned to the Academy and had a few ways of sending it to her just in case.
“It was great to see you,” said Scythe politely.
“Aw, it was great to see you too. Have a safe journey back~” Silverstream glowed as she waved them goodbye. The gang all made their way through the carriage door to get on. Suddenly, Silverstream had a smirk on her face and quickly grabbed Gallus’ arm with both sets of claws. “Oh! Gally! Next time I see you, I want you to do something…” she told him.
Gallus tilted his head. “What?” He didn’t expect what happened next.
Suddenly, he was pulled in closer and felt Silverstream’s beak pushed right into his cheek. A wave of heat spread from the epicentre of contact across his entire head. His heart pounded at double speed, his wings extended to a whole span, and his eyes froze wide in surprise.
After sneaking Gallus a kiss, Silverstream pulled him closer to where her beak was right next to his ear. “Wear your uniform,” she whispered softly and intently.
Gallus was so flustered and mind-broken that he could barely get the words out, let alone construct them into a complete sentence. “Uh, s-sure yeah okay…” Silverstream giggled, finding his reaction cute.
His military friends also found it cute but in a slightly different way. “AWWWW!” Sterling and Dust exclaimed sardonically, their hooves pressed between their cheeks. They couldn’t wait to take the opportunity to embarrass their griffon comrade.
“Poor Bluebird. Jammi sodd, feeling mithered by his luvbird’s kissers.”
“You miss your bird already, don’t you? You sweetheart…”
As the two mares helped carry Gallus onto the train, Scythe was being nudged. He noticed that Nicknames was giving him a smirk, by which Scythe furrowed his brow in response. Then, it dawned on him, the bet. He sighed frustratedly, “Okay, you win,” he conceded. Silverstream did kiss Gallus, and it was just before they were about to leave.
“You bet I did!” Nicknames celebrated, pumping a hoof into the sky. “Well, Lingo, we shook on fifty bits. How soon can you pay me?”
That was when Scythe revealed a smirk of his own. “About that, remember how I paid that club your tab so you could leave?” he asked Nicknames rhetorically.
Nicknames tilted his head. “Kinda?” he was left confused and, for some reason, a little concerned.
Then Scythe followed up with another question.
“Guess how many bits were in the bag I gave them?”
Nicknames paused for thought; he vaguely recalled the bag being hefty with several coins rolling out, but he never counted them. But the answer dawned on him when the wires connected in his brain.
“Oh Twilight…”
Several days had passed, and the Royal Guard Academy’s final term had begun. Ponies were preparing to give presentations about their adventures over the spring break for the Academy Adventure Award.
Gallus and his friends were on the stage of a lecture hall. They had decorated it with souvenirs from their time at Mount Aris and Seaquestria, including the sizable homemade country flag that Pound Sterling had bought.
The group insisted Gallus do all the talking. At the same time, three company commanders acted as judges, watching from the front row of the audience seats. Pound Sterling controlled the slides, each containing relevant photos she had taken.
“Afternoon, staff of the Royal Guard Academy. We are here as part of Larson Company First Wings to present our Adventure to the Hippogriff Isles and Seaquestria. We had chosen this location for two reasons: ponies hardly visit it, yet they’re one of Equestria’s valued allies. As such, it was a good opportunity for us to explore and understand their culture.”
So far, so good, Gallus thought. The judges wrote down their notes and listened intently. He could hear Lightning Dust and Pound Sterling whisper and snicker, but nothing suspicious. He continued.
“During our time there, we explored the grand mountains of two of their four main islands, Mount Aris and Ludo Isle. We visited the markets and took in their festivities. We swam down the deepest depths of Seaquestria, where the coral reefs showed a peaceful atmosphere, and the caverns held a vibrant nightlife.”
He quickly glanced back; the slides showed impressive scenic photos. Some even showed the squad as sea ponies. He also saw Lighting Dust and Nicknames holding their muzzles as if to refrain from laughter. Gallus continued.
“The main part of our adventure was a rare opportunity to sail and work alongside a crew of a ship of the Royal Hippogriff Navy. We learned some basic tasks, rubbed shoulders with the Navygriffs on the three-day journey, and learned what it takes to defend a vast ocean. Ultimately, we had a once-in-a-lifetime experience with amazing sites and lots of fun, and the scenery change helped us better understand ourselves. We think any pony seeking adventure should visit these islands.”
As he concluded, he noticed the judge’s expressions had all changed. One was confused, another bemused, and the last hid his face behind his notepad. Gallus tried his best to hold a confident smile, hoping one of them would acknowledge that the presentation was over.
The bemused judge then cleared her throat. “Um… yes. That was a fascinating lecture,” she complimented. “Am I right to assume you got along well with the Hippogriffs and Seaponies on your adventure?”
The griffon sighed with relief, “Yes, ma’am, we did our best to leave a good impression on the locals whenever and wherever we were.” He answered calmly and proudly.
“I see. Judging by the photo, it seems you left a very good impression on the hippogriffs.”
In response to the bemused judge’s remark, Gallus raised a curious eyebrow. He turned around, and what he saw left him in horror. Up on the lecture screen was a massive projection of the moment Silverstream gave him a kiss on the cheek, highlighting his flushed and stunned reaction, one that left him unaware that Pound Sterling caught the moment on camera.
That was when all of his friends in front of him burst out laughing. Looks like he could not hide the fact anymore.