//------------------------------//
// 2 - Wer Bist Du? 
// Story: Summer Days 
// by Nicknack 
//------------------------------//

I had not thought about the repercussions of attempting to fly while wearing what felt like a hundred pounds of metal. Then again, I hadn’t recognized Starfall at first—his mane was cut close to his head, save for a slightly longer stripe down the middle—so the whole thing had been somewhat impromptu.
 
Anyway, after my quick departure from Farrington, the sharp pain in both my wings made it impossible to enjoy spitting in an asshole’s face. If there was any comfort to be had, it was that my armor didn’t constrict my wings at all. When I got up to full speed, it took less effort to keep myself aloft than it had to take off, but I was still beating my wings harder than I ever had to before.
 
When I finally got to my home turf, I realized it would be suicide to try “griffin fishing” in my armor. Instead, I went up to my cave to put everything away. Not only did I have the armor, but there were the reading scrolls, my coin sack... and that stupid clock.
 
Some pony had a lot of fun making that thing, I knew. But I hated it. It featured a Farrington-style house, painted pink, with a clock set into one wall. The “alarm” portion, though, was two bells that got rang by two hammers that were held by an apparently house-sized rabbit that sat on the roof. I hated it, but it was the only one the store I went to had in stock.
 
So for dinner, I went down to the forest and found some rabbits. It made me feel better.
 
I thought I was done with the clock, but then I realized I had forgotten to set it before leaving Farrington. With a shrug, I guessed that it took me an hour to make the flight, then another half to eat, so I set the clock to seven.
 
With that taken care of, I turned my attention to my task for the evening: reading. Ironically, Father had insisted that I be well-versed in both the written languages of the Sharfkral and the ponies... as well as their history, military tactics, and anatomy.
 
Kenne deinen Feind, our old saying went. “Know your enemy.”
 
Captain Bulwark’s scrolls weren’t very long or difficult, so I was able to get through the first two by nine o’ clock. At that hour, the sun was too low for me to read anything else, which made me feel... disadvantaged, compared to ponies and their indoor lighting.
 
It hadn’t been the first time that day, either. Even the captain, who made a big show of “you can just set a good example,” didn’t really trust me with those scrolls. “Be gentle,” he had reminded me. And then Lieutenant Starfall...
 
I rolled up the scrolls I had finished and shook my head. Gilda, Cadet of the Farrington Guard? The whole thing still sounded crazy to me. I looked at the clock, then the scrolls, then down at my chest—the stripe from when I had almost killed Dash.
 
Which one was I?
 
I mulled that question over for a while, but then I realized it didn’t matter who I was; that night, I was exhausted. Even while I was reading, I had to fight to keep my eyelids open. One day as a guard had sapped all my energy, so I wound up that damn, cutsey alarm clock, set it far away from where I slept, fluffed up my blanket, and nestled down for the night.
 

*              *              *

 
The next morning, I caught two fish for breakfast, hoping that they’d keep me going longer than the one from yesterday. Then again, I could probably blame Farrington’s food for leaving me hungry; Captain Bulwark had bought me lunch, but he had flat-out banned me from hunting outside the city for my meals.
 
After breakfast, I got my armor on, picked up the scrolls, and took off for Farrington. Flying to the city was a lot easier than coming back from it; I started off higher, so I could glide down instead of forcing myself to rise.
 
When I got to the city, there were only three minutes until eight o’clock, which made me cringe; I needed to set my alarm clock better. I headed to the Citadel to wait for Captain Bulwark, and also, I thought it would be good to at least try to finish the third scroll. I knew he was going to have something to say about me only finishing two thirds of my night’s reading, but I’d have to explain that I didn’t really have any choice in the matter.
 
Inside the Citadel, a cheery, yellow mare was sitting behind the desk. Her bright eyes warmed in a smile when she saw me and offered a “Hi there!”
 
I waved back with a quiet, “Hey.” She took it as an invitation to start a small-talk conversation about me, my favorite color, and other trivial stuff. Her energy and happiness made it hard to shut her down, so I obliged her with what I could.
 
Despite the distraction, which I had to admit wasn’t that bad, I took small comfort in the fact that I could finally sit on the benches while Memo, as she introduced herself, chatted her favorite flower—daffodils—at me. Mine was a very small comfort, though; the metal lip of my armor still dug into my hips, shoulders, and neck...
 
I shook my head. I had reading to do. Memo either didn’t notice or didn’t care that I unrolled my third and final scroll and sped through it. As fast as I read, it still felt like a long time had gone by when I neared the end.
 
The door to the Citadel opened, and Memo stopped talking mid-sentence, so I knew I had to choose between looking busy and acknowledging Captain Bulwark’s presence; I decided the latter would be better, so I looked up and choked on my morning greeting.
 
Lieutenant Starfall was standing in front of me and glaring.
 
I tried not to panic, even though I didn’t like the idea of the two of us being alone together—especially after my “parting gift.” Instead of bringing that up, he just sneered and asked, “Why are you just sitting around?”
 
“I’m waiting for Captain Bulwark to get here, sir.” The word tasted bad in my mouth. “He’s running late this morning.”
 
The pegasus looked at the wall behind me, then back to me. “Your training shift doesn’t start until nine. Don’t sit around in the open, it makes the Guard look bad.”
 
Because I’m a griffin, I added. Asshole. “Sorry, sir,” I said out loud. Every time I had to call him that, I wanted to punch something.
 
For a brief moment, his glare softened, and he opened his mouth to say something. Apparently, he thought better of it, and he turned to walk into the door on the left-hand side of the room. As he passed her, he gave an oddly warm, “Hi, Memo.”
 
She responded by hunching down a little and responding with a quiet, “Hi.”
 
After that, Lieutenant Starfall walked through the door behind her, and she looked down at her desk in a muted, sad gaze. I thought about asking her what was up, but I didn’t really care, either; I had reading to do.
 
It was also possible for me to go deeper into the Citadel; Starfall hadn’t locked the door behind him, so I could have gone and joined him in a place that wasn’t out in the open. That sounded as fun as incubating a hedgehog, so I sat back down like a contemptuous bitch...
 
I smiled at Gerard’s term; then I remembered I’d never see him again, so I went back to my scrolls.
 
Ten minutes later, Captain Bulwark entered the Citadel, exchanged greetings with the secretary, then looked back at me with a grin. “You thought your shift started at eight, didn’t you?”
 
“Sorry, sir,” I apologized. “But I got to finish last night’s reading.”
 
I held the scrolls out, and he chuckled. “That wasn’t one night’s worth of reading... that was the entire week’s worth.”
 
No one tells me these things, I lamented. “Sir, I’m confused: they only took a few hours to read.”
 
“True, there’s not a lot to read, but it’s useful to remember.” I heard the doubt in his voice, like he thought I was lying. He pushed the scrolls back to me and said, “Hold on to them until Saturday, so you don’t forget anything on the test.”
 
“Test, sir?”
 
The captain nodded. “Saturday, you’ll have a short written exam to certify your knowledge of Farrington Guard procedures. It’s to make sure that you understood the training.”
 
With that clarified, we headed out on patrol. That morning, instead of a lecture, Captain Bulwark spent the morning quizzing me over the scrolls’ contents. I told him what I remembered, and there weren’t a lot of gaps in my knowledge. And the best part was that I was too busy reciting facts and bylaws to notice how, again, everyone’s head turned to stare at me as I walked past.
 
When it was time for lunch, the captain led me to a restaurant, and he seemed impressed with my retention. “If you want this, Gilda, it will happen.”
 
I doubted his encouragement. Surely, there was more to being a guard than three scrolls’ worth of knowledge?
 
As if he read my mind, the captain clarified, “Granted, you won’t be able to give directions or help with current events until you learn the city itself, but that will come naturally once you’ve been here for a while. For now, you have a very solid foundation of our street laws.”
 
“Street laws, sir?” I asked.
 
“Well, yes, cadet. There’s more laws than the guards are able to enforce that govern this city. For example, you’re not going to have to go to around inspecting houses making sure they’re up to fire-safety code.”
 
That made sense, and that explained why everything seemed so simple—because it was. I swelled with joy when I realized what the captain meant: if I wanted to, I could be a city guard.
 
Confidence was not something that came easily in Father’s household. I remembered when he had taught me about a powerful healing herb—complete with an example wound to treat. It had taken three hours to find it, and as a “reward,” I was kicked out of our cave for the rest of the day, because I took so long...
 
We were stopped, in the middle of the street, and Captain Bulwark looked at me with a hint of concern. “Are you okay, Gilda?”
 
“What, sir?”
 
“You started to look pleased with yourself, but then you came to a halt and your expression turned...” He paused to find the right word. “Harrowed.”
 
“Sorry, sir,” I said without thinking. The captain still looked worried, but he didn’t press the matter any further. I was grateful; the past few weeks had brought up far too many memories of my childhood. Still, I felt like I needed to say something, so I added, “I’m just stoked that being a guard might actually work out for me.”
 
That answer made him grin, proudly. “Well, I’m glad for that. Now, let’s go to lunch.”
 
My stomach growled, and I agreed. “Yeah, right now, I’m so hungry, I could eat a hor—” I barely caught myself in time, but now I was stuck with half a word. To fix it, I played up the language barrier card and started sputtering random syllables: “nen... ko... blitzen.”
 
Captain Bulwark turned and stared blankly at me before smiling, “Okay, I’ll bite. What in the world is a Hornenkoblitzen?”
 
I remembered last Sunday, with Dash, how lying got me in trouble, but now, I was in too deep to quit. The best option was to go with something obscure that would never come up again: “They’re... those weird tree things in the desert with all the spikes,” I lied.
 
“A... a cactus?” the captain asked, wide-eyed and stumped. “I’ve been to every restaurant in this city, Gilda, and I don’t think any of them offer cactus.”
 
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s an expression, sir. But shouldn’t you be more concerned with how I’d be tripping balls afterwards?”
 
His face hardened. “Gilda...” he warned.
 
I bowed my head and raised a hand in surrender. “Sorry, sir.” He had a point; I needed to start to watch what I was saying. One “Hornenkoblitzen” was enough to show me that.
 
We ended up at an outdoor café for lunch, and both of us ordered potatoes. They weren’t my least favorite pony meal; they were cheap, didn’t try to taste good, and they filled me up better than a lot of other dishes. Not only that, but today, I could actually sit upright at the table; it was a vast improvement over yesterday’s over-tight armor fiasco.
 
While we waited for our food to arrive, Captain Bulwark continued the tradition of telling me about the history of Farrington, and again, I noted how amusing it was to see him getting excited about something. It almost sounded like Dash and the Wonderbolts, except the captain had a bigger vocabulary. It made me smile.
 
When our lunches came, the captain turned his attention to his cheese-covered mess, so I changed the subject a little. “So you really think I’ll make a good guard?”
 
He nodded, then swallowed. “But I think a better question is, do you think you’d make a good guard?”
 
I took a moment to think about it and came up with, “The training’s a lot to remember, but it’s not impossible.” Captain Bulwark smiled at me, but I had other things to bring up. “That’s not what bothers me, though. I mean, still, ponies are staring at me like I’m some sort of freak. Like, more than usual.” I shrugged. “I’ll get over it, I guess, but I can’t help but feel like I don’t fit in.”
 
“Well, you don’t, Gilda,” he replied, and I deflated a little. “But you’ve been a guard for less than two days. Ponies still aren’t used to seeing a griffin walking around in city, let alone one in Guard’s armor. Their attention will die down once you start to become part of their day-to-day routine.” He cracked a wary grin and added, “Plus, it’s not every day that I get away from the south gate and patrol like this. So, some of their bewilderment is probably directed at me, too.”
 
I hadn’t thought about it like that; yeah, I was a sore thumb, but I supposed the captain was a pretty important figure. Also, he hadn’t wanted for both of us to be paired; I remembered yesterday, when Lieutenant Starfall had blown off the chain of command.
 
After we dug into our meals a little, the captain surprised me. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you do in your spare time?” It was the first time he had asked about me, personally, instead of stuff that related to me and the Guard, or me and my tribe.
 
I took a moment to think; the honest answer wouldn’t really be “appropriate table talk.” So in lieu of that, I went back to my childhood, back when I used to explore the massive cave system in Sharfkral-Grat. It had used to be homes; now, it was mostly empty. Still, I was honest when I answered, “I like caves.”
 
The captain nodded. “Interesting...”
 
“What?” I defended my hobby.
 
He raised an apologetic hoof. “I only meant, you can fly, yet you prefer to stay underground.”
 
“Well...” I started. I didn’t know whether or not I should tell him about why I preferred hiding in caves, or the reason why I was afraid to be out in the open. “It’s quiet there, so it’s a good place to be alone.” With a shrug, I admitted, “Things were already pretty dark, growing up.”
 
Captain Bulwark thought about what I had said for a moment, then responded in a sober tone. “We both spent a lot of time underground, cadet.” He wasn’t dismissing my childhood, but his tone both told me that he both understood and didn’t want to talk about his own past.
 
Morbidly, I wondered which of us had it worse growing up, but my rational side made me ignore it. Either way, now we were sitting in tense silence. I tried to break it. “It’s nice that we ended up outside, sir.”
 
Captain Bulwark said nothing in reply, but he looked up to the sky with a pensive grin. I looked up, too, to see if there was something up there; there wasn’t. When I looked back at the captain, he was looking at me now, and for a few moments, we just kind of looked at each other. During that time, I felt like his usual pretext was gone, or at least faded; his expression was a lot softer than usual.
 
It was weird.
 
Our waitress came by to interrupt our eye contact, and again, the captain offered to pay for my meal. “We’re together,” he told the waitress. Then, his eyes shot open, and he corrected, “I mean, I’m paying for her. Because she’s training with the Guard this week.”
 
The serving mare chuckled a little, and after she walked away, the captain uttered, “Damn.”
 
Having sat through that entire exchange, I was slightly confused, to say the least. Did the captain really take that much stock in his word choice? If that were the case, I felt sorry that I had heard him swear. I pulled out my coin sack from inside my armor. “I can pay for myself, if that’s how officers usually do it,” I offered.
 
He declined. “There’s no real set protocol for a cadet’s training week lunches; usually, there’s so few prospective applicants to the Guard that it’s not a big deal to take the money out of our expenses budget... besides, you don’t eat a lot.”
 
I speared the last of my potato on a talon, slid it in my mouth, and swallowed. “No offense, sir, but this stuff’s not really my thing.”
 
“Well...” He closed his eyes and waved a matter-of-fact hoof at me. “You had better get used to lunches inside the city...”
 
“I kn—understand, sir,” I caught myself.
 
He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll get used to our cuisine over the next few months.”
 
After lunch, I met with Sherry again. Like the captain, she quizzed me over the scrolls I had read, and like the captain, she was impressed with how much I had learned in one night. When her quiz was over, she remarked, “I never knew griffins were so well-read.”
 
“I never knew that Farrington was founded over two hundred years ago by a mining guild,” I replied with a bit of trivia I remembered from Captain Bulwark’s impromptu history lesson.
 
Sherry looked at me consolingly, “Did Iron tell you the whole history of Farrington this morning?”
 
“No,” I replied, “it was at lunch.”
 
She barked out laughter at that; it was a kind of harsh sound, but that was just how she talked. “Oh, man. Iron’s city and Starfall’s kids. Two subjects to not bring up if you have anything to say during the next hour.” Seeing my confused look, she added, “Well, okay, Starfall hates you, but anyone else...”
 
I nodded before asking, “Why does he hate me, if you don’t mind telling?” In lieu of calling her “ma’am,” I tried to be polite because I was going off-topic.
 
“Oh, but I do mind, cadet,” she answered, patting her flank’s armor. “Gossip about my old lieutenant? I like my ass in one piece, thank you very much.” Then she brought her hoof to her face, made the motion of drawing a zipper across her mouth, and that was that.
 

*              *              *

 
The next few days passed without incident, for the most part. My armor still dug into me and my hands still hated walking around the city for hours on end, but I knew I was getting better at being a guard. I remembered my scrolls, my patrols, and to keep my mouth shut if it didn’t need opening.
 
Friday afternoon at his booth, Captain Bulwark and I filled out some paperwork, which he told me was necessary for me to legally be part of the Guard, and to receive pay—technically, he reminded me, I wasn’t an Equestrian citizen.
 
When we finished, he gave me a tiny scroll—the “Guard’s Oath.” It was pretty standard fare, or at least, it lined up with everything Captain Bulwark had taught me over the past week.
 
Near the end, I noticed that part of it had been scratched out. I read it out loud, “...and I swear by...” I held up the parchment to the captain and tapped the scribbles. “What went here, sir?”
 
“I didn’t think it would be appropriate to have you swear allegiance to Celestia,” he answered levelly.
 
Gratefully, I replied, “Thank you, sir. Because I wouldn’t have.”
 
He nodded, but I doubted he knew the half of it; Celestia, the pony queen, hadn’t exactly advertised her extermination of the Schnelfluge tribe. The more naïve part of me thought that it could’ve been out of shame; more realistically, I figured she didn’t want to scare her subjects with how white-hot her fury could burn.
 
“I left it open for you to decide who or what to swear to,” the captain continued, “but what would have happened if I did require you to take that oath?”
 
I thought about it. I could justify being a guard in a city, far away from the Equestrian capital. But I still had some loyalty to my race; I would never pledge allegiance to her. So I answered, “I would have given the armor back, thanked you, and left.”
 
“It would have been a shame to see you leave, Gilda.”
 
I looked south, thinking about what it would mean if I had to leave Farrington. I had no ties to the area, so I probably would have finally left my cave for a new place. Or at least, I could’ve cashed in on those travel plans I always had.
 
Then I looked back to the city’s wall and thought about the crappy stone streets filled with hundreds of ponies going about their daily business. The city was hard and distant, but something about Farrington was endearing, even if I couldn’t put a talon on it.
 
I turned back to Captain Bulwark. “It would have been a shame to leave, sir.”
 
After that, I finished my shift and went home for the evening. The whole time, I went over the oath in my head. By the time I was back in my cave, I was less concerned with what the oath said and more about what it meant.
 
I sat on my outcropping, looking over the Jägerwald as the sun set. The coming night was going to be a warm one, but there was still a breeze, so the late-May weather wasn’t oppressive yet. Above me, the sky darkened to purple, and the first stars of the night were starting to shine through.
 
It made me think back to home, and who else from my tribe would be looking up at them.
 
Yet there I was, hundreds of miles away, an outcast. However, it was only now that I felt I was about to take a huge step away from my tribe. If I took that oath tomorrow, I’d be part of Equestrian society—it didn’t matter that I was a “resident alien” instead of a full-blown citizen.
 
Was I ready for that?
 
Oaths themselves were severe in their simplicity; I knew how griffins in my tribe were expected to uphold them. I shook my head and reminded myself that my tribe’s views didn’t matter: the Sharfkral were bound by their own laws to not care about what I was doing with my life. I didn’t have to honor their laws while I was banished, and since the price of going back was too high, I was going to remain here, alone until...
 
I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I didn’t want to think about it.
 
Then a fire lit in my chest, and I whipped my head back up, glaring off at the horizon. “Not thinking about it” was my favorite flavor of cowardice, so I laid it all out bluntly. I wasn’t a Sharfkral unless I killed Dash, and I had a stripe to remind me just how evil that was. If I clung to their laws, I’d have to break my own morals. So what, exactly, was wrong with distancing myself from my tribe?
 
Even back home, I used our legends, not our laws, for guidelines on how to live. And even though I was far away from the original texts, I could still remember most of their lessons.
 
I looked up; that night, there were no clouds, so I could see the entire beauty of the cosmos: stars that shimmered in different sizes and colors, great streaks of purple and green dust that flowed like wind, and a few, rare dots that were bright, steady, and different, somehow.
 
That night, I knew why the night sky was sacred to griffins. It was as beautiful as it was immense.
 
Above me, I found Jäger, god of the bountiful hunt. My tribe’s history stated that, back when he a was mortal, the elders of the tribe had sent him out into the Great Forest to hunt Hirsch, the great stag. For two weeks, Jäger went without food or drink as he stalked his prey. The night he found Hirsch, Jäger was approached by a mystical wolf whose pelt was the night sky and whose eyes were pale yellow moons. Jäger was so impressed by the creature’s beauty that, after felling Hirsch, he offered the kill as a tribute. In gratitude, the Sternwolf told Jäger its name, and then showed him the path to the night sky. There, the two of them remained, hunting together throughout the ages.
 
Some of the details of the story were probably exaggerated over time.
 
Still, the story emphasized patience and respecting nature’s beauty. I could get behind those virtues. The tale also held a bit of personal meaning to me: Jäger’s quest to fell Hirsch was the historical foundation of my own banishment. Over time, the Verbannungsprüfung became a punishment near the same level as death, but it started off as a coming-of-age ritual for young griffins.
 
I found comfort in the fact that Jäger, by his tribe’s standards, had also failed his quest. But in that failure, he became something better than he had been back home. I sighed, wondering what that meant about me.
 
Below me, the forest was dark and quiet. I entertained some morbid curiosity by  wondering what would have happened if I had returned to my tribe after killing Rainbow Dash. I wouldn’t have been hailed as a hero or anything by Father, but... I’d be able to see my sisters and some of the elders I liked. I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. Would that really be so bad a way to end up?
 
I turned to my right, and a withered, elderly griffin was perched next to me. For my part, I didn’t scream. I didn’t know who she was, but she sat slouched, like her whole life’s mistakes weighed heavily on her shoulders. Large patches of feathers and fur were missing, and the skin underneath was thatched with cuts and scars. When she turned face me, her left eye was missing, just like Father’s.
 
From her new position, I could see the spots on what remained of her chest feathers, and the deep scars on the flesh below.
 
I turned away in disgust, to my left. There, another griffin sat. She was the same age as the gnarled, gray ghost on my right, but unlike her, this griffin sat tall, proud, and bore the gold-trimmed armor of a Farrington lieutenant. It had been custom-forged for her, and she wielded an ornate spear instead of the gold-hilted sword that Lieutenant Starfall and Captain Bulwark both wore.
 
She was triumphant, and she grinned at me out of the side of her beak.
 
I looked up to the night sky again, but this time, Jäger was alone in an otherwise empty sky. Slowly, the constellation turned, and his eyes blazed like suns. His beak opened, and he spoke in a voice that was as vast and deep as the night itself.
 

“WER BIST DU?”

 
From the back of my cave, my alarm clock rang, and I bolted awake. I was still sitting on my outcropping, and I had fallen asleep like that, so my butt was stiff as I walked over to turn off that stupid rabbit.
 
When it was quiet again, I could concentrate on my dream. It had been freaky and vivid, but mostly, I focused on Jäger’s question: “Wer bist du?”—“Who are you?” It didn’t take a genius to see that the two griffins were both me, just in the future. The Gilda on my right was what would’ve happened if I had fulfilled my Verbannungsprüfung. With a queasy pain behind my right eye, I realized how that Gilda’s injuries had been self-inflicted.
 
The Gilda on my left, though... who was she?
 
I walked back to my outcropping again to mull things over. I had time; it was eight o’ clock, my oath ceremony wasn’t until ten, and I wanted to make sure I was going. I looked up to the north, to the two societies I didn’t belong to. One had violently rejected me, and the other... was starting to tolerate me.
 
But it’s still acceptance, I realized. Is that so bad?
 
That question came back to the same question from my dream. “Who am I?” I asked the sky. Now that I was awake, the sky didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, so I thought back to my dream. In it, there had been a clear distinction between the heroic guard I might become and the wraithlike horror I would have turned into. In that sense, my brain was hinting that I preferred Farrington to Sharfkral-Grat, at least in my current situation.
 
That realization hit me heavily, but not necessarily in a bad way. I figured that was as good a sign as any that I’d do okay among the Farrington ponies.
 
I cracked a little smile, then I leaped up and swooped down to my pond. I had to get ready for my oath ceremony.
 



 
At a quarter past nine, a knock sounded at my door, so I set down the Farrington Times to go answer it.
 
“Morning, Iron,” Sherry greeted me from my doorstep. “You doing the oath thing naked, or what?”
 
I chuckled at her suggestion. “That’s not until ten; I figured I had at least five more minutes to read about what an inexperienced oaf I am.” Then I stood to the side of the doorway. “Come in, unless you want to beat me to the Citadel?”
 
Sherry shook her head as she walked through the doorway. “And be alone with those press svolochs? Hell no. I just wanted to make sure you’re ready for the big day.”
 
My armor was on its stand to the side of the front door, so I picked up the first half and started positioning it on my back. “It’s not my big day, Sherry. And what makes you think I’m not ready?”
 
“Because it’s not every day that ‘Captain Iron Bulwark’ puts his reputation out on the line like this,” she answered. Then she pointed at my kitchen table, and the newspaper. “And, you’re procrastinating.”
 
“I’m not...” I usually had Saturday mornings off, and Maxie slept in a lot, which meant that it was the one day of the week where I had a guarantee of more than three hours to myself. Guards were normally sworn in on a Saturday morning, so whenever we got a new officer, I technically had to act as captain for thirteen mornings in a row. I could pay the neighbor’s colt to do some chores around my home to make up some of that time, but I held my extended coffee and newspaper time to be sacred.
 
Then again, my coffee had gone cold before eight-thirty, and I had spent a lot more time reading parts of the newspaper that I usually skipped. With a sigh, I resigned, “Okay, then. Yes, I’m nervous. But this is huge, Sherry. Both for me, and Farrington... hell, I got a letter from Elpithasus last week, asking for me to get in touch with them for some international guidelines I need to follow.”
 
Sherry blinked. “That seems big. Did you write back yet?”
 
I let her question hang as I attached the lower half of the armor and started buckling it. Sherry stepped over and helped, which sped the process up immensely. Only when it was done did I answer, “The next caravan isn’t until Thursday, so no.”
 
“That’s a long time to wait...”
 
I put my helmet on as I shrugged. “I forgot that Maxie wasn’t speaking to me, so when I asked her how she’d feel about delivering a letter to the griffin capital...” I paused; two days later, the incident still came as a shock. “She... lit it on fire. I didn’t know she could do fire spells.”
 
Sherry chuckled, then went to the door and held it open for me while I slipped into my greaves. “Well, here’s hoping it’s nothing important.”
 
“Here’s hoping,” I agreed. With one last glance around my home to make sure nothing needed attention, I walked out the door. “Besides, Gilda mentioned some things about being banished, so I figure it’s only some definitive terms of that for me to follow.”
 
“Or maybe she’s a spy, and they’re sending you her control word.” Sherry closed the door behind me, hoofed the key off my belt, and locked it. She put it back with a pat. “So, you’re nervous about swearing in a griffin? Or do you just spend too much time with your evil twin?”
 
I smiled at her nickname for Starfall, but I mused, “If I had a pegasus and a unicorn as siblings, maybe I would feel a little betrayed by the odds of genes.” Sherry didn’t buy the deflection, so I continued, “I’m sure she’ll do fine. It’s the rest of the city I’m worried about. I’m sure you heard about Red Hooves?”
 
Her eyes widened as her mouth curled into a snarl. “Don’t—”
 
I raised a hoof. “You know what I mean. That situation is a powder keg waiting to go off, if he were serious about his ‘job’ offer.”
 
We walked in silence for a few blocks. Four years ago, Sherry had been happily engaged to Lieutenant Spade; four years ago, the lieutenant had been murdered in the line of duty while investigating Red Hooves’ illegal operations. Four years later, she was still mourning, a process that involved equal parts obsession and self-obliteration.
 
There was nothing healthy I could do to help her with it. She knew that if it ever affected her guard duties, she would be let go; four years later, and we hadn’t had to cross that bridge yet.
 
It didn’t stop her from trying from time to time. Like now, when she uttered, “You should just let me deal with him and be done with it.”
 
“Sherry, no,” was still my answer.
 
“You wouldn’t even know,” came her answer. Its openness scared me.
 
“You’ve held faith in the system for so long,” I reminded her. “Eventually, he’ll be brought to justice.” I poked her shoulder. “Not slain by some Stalliongrad gang war.”
 
We got onto the main drag, and I poked her shoulder again. That time, I saw the hint of a smile crack through her face, so I did it again, then again. Finally, she broke out in a laugh. “If you poke me with that greave one more time, it’s going inside you.”
 
I chuckled, but started walking with four hooves again. When we got to the Citadel, I turned to her. “I should go on inside and deal with the press; will you proctor her exam?”
 
Sherry glared at me. “You know? Nineteen years as a sergeant, and no, today, I don’t feel like doing it the way it’s always gone.” Then, her tone softened. “Go on inside, you’ll do fine. She’ll do fine, Iron.”
 
“Thanks Sherry.” I nodded. Then, I walked inside the Citadel to get things ready for the Farrington Guard’s newest addition.
 



 
That morning, when I got to the Citadel, my sergeant was sitting behind the desk. “Morning, not-yet-Officer Gilda.”
 
I nodded. “Hi, Sergeant Sherry.” Even formally, I couldn’t bring myself to call her by her last name.
 
She smiled at me. “Today’s the big day. You nervous?”
 
I thought about it before answering, “Not as nervous as I was on Monday.”
 
“Well,” she said lackadaisically, “Iron’s busy right now, but I can get you started on your exam if you want.”
 
The test itself wasn’t difficult; I had read the three scrolls almost every night that week, so I knew how to be a guard on paper. While I was finishing the exam, I heard the Citadel’s doors open, but I only had two questions to go, so I ignored it.
 
After I handed over my completed exam, I turned to see who had come in the room; he was a lieutenant I hadn’t met before. At first glance, I thought he was white, but on closer inspection, his coat was a very faint orange. He looked at me, then at Sherry, then pulled out a pair of dark-tinted glasses from his armor. “I don’t know why Starfall rejected you. It’s not every day that we’re griffin a new recruit.”
 
He put the glasses on while I fought to keep from groaning; then, the orange comedian introduced himself. “Officer Gilda, this is our first time meeting. I am Lieutenant Horatio.”
 
I had heard of him by name; apparently, the captain had done some sergeant-juggling to fix Lieutenant Starfall’s bigotry. “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” I said, holding out a hand.
 
He shook it quickly, like he wanted to speed things along. “Things are dying down at the hospital, so I expect we might see more of each other in the upcoming weeks. Still, I let my sergeants file their own ranks, so I doubt it’ll be much more.”
 
My lieutenant was blunt, but there was a sort of functional politeness to it. I got the feeling that he would see niceties and formalities as wasting his time, so I just nodded at his statement.
 
“Have you given any thought to whether you would prefer a late-morning or overnight?”
 
I hadn’t; my gut reaction was that I liked the night enough that it didn’t matter. “Which one do you need more?”
 
“Morning shift.”
 
“Then a morning shift, sir,” I replied.
 
Lieutenant Horatio nodded. “Report in at nine o’ clock on Monday morning.” Then, abruptly, he asked, “Sherry! How’d she do on the exam?”
 
“Passed, sir.”
 
“Then let’s go to the press room, they’re waiting for us,” he said. Sherry stood up and walked beside him, so I walked behind the pair of them as we headed... wherever we were going.
 
Our destination was a small, cool room on the left half of the Citadel. On the opposite end of the room, Captain Bulwark stood on a raised platform as he spoke to a unicorn, who held a pad and took notes with her magic. As soon as we entered the room, the captain gestured to us. “And here they are now!”
 
There was an explosion of light, and I froze. When I could see again, I had fallen behind my superior officers, so I jogged a few steps to catch up.
 
At the front of the room, the unicorn broke away from Captain Bulwark to speak to me, quickly and in my face. “Officer Gilda, this is News Reel for the Farrington Times, do you have a minute after the ceremony for an interview?”
 
I was flustered. I did not want to do an interview. I didn’t know if I was allowed to give an interview. I didn’t know what questions she would ask, or how long it would take...
 
Sherry stepped in. “Take a statement that Sergeant Shared Justice has declined permission for her officer to give an interview.”
 
The dejected news unicorn stepped back, writing something on her notepad. “Thanks,” I whispered to Sherry.
 
“No worries, press is scum,” came her hushed answer.
 
The three of us climbed up the stairs of the platform in the back of the room and stood in order of rank while Captain Bulwark introduced us. Then he led into a speech about the purpose of the Farrington Guard, and how its duty was to protect citizens against all threats, both internal and external. He played me off as a new step forward in pony-griffin relations; I didn’t want to correct him.
 
When he finished, the captain turned to me and asked, “Are you ready to become a guard of Farrington, Gilda?”
 
I’m here, aren’t I? I asked him in my mind, but I realized the whole ceremony was for show anyway. “Yes, sir,” I played my part. We stared at each other for a very long moment; I didn’t know what he was waiting for.
 
Sherry sneezed loudly, but it came out sounding like “Oath!”
 
Right, it clicked.
 
Ever since Junior Speedsters’, I didn’t like canned speeches. However, the Guard’s Oath was more somber and serious than bragging about “sky-bound soars and daring dives.” I recited the words from the scroll, plus my addition near the end:
 
“I have taken upon myself the task of defense of Farrington and its citizens. Through my role as a guard, I swear to maintain the peace in this city by whatever means are necessary. I swear to put my duty before my family, my friends, and even my own life if need be. I understand the gravity of this oath, but I swear by my honor that I will do everything within my power to uphold it.”
 
On saying the words, I felt a wave of relief wash over me; it was real, now. Several more explosions of light followed my oath, but I blocked them out because Captain Bulwark smiled at me warmly and shook my hand.
 
“Welcome to the Farrington Guard, Officer Gilda.”
 

*              *              *

 
I got out of my oath ceremony after about twenty more minutes of the captain’s speeches, press’s photos, and a growing feeling of personal excitement. This is happening, I realized, but I fought to keep my face neutral and dignified; I didn’t want a weird smile to make it to the front page of the newspapers.
 
Once outside, I hesitated for a moment as I chose whether to go left or right. Left would take me home, but I wanted to celebrate becoming an officer. At the very least, I wanted to tell someone about my recent accomplishment. My family was out of the equation and my sergeant and captain had been there at ceremony, so I settled on Dash.
 
As soon as I thought of her, I remembered my trip to Ponyville and everything that I had done to her. I had apologized at the end, but looking back, I wondered how much that actually counted. “Saying” and “doing” were two different things.
 
I didn’t want to be the type of griffin that just left things said and undone.
 
I turned right and walked to the post office. Technically, it was my turn to send her a letter, anyway—and despite being in the city every day for the last six days, I hadn’t checked my mail. For all I knew, she had written something.
 
Inside the post office, a glare and an accusatory hoof greeted me. “YOU!”
 
“Wrong letter.” I pointed back with a grin. “My friends call me ‘G.’ You can call me Officer G, though.”
 
I didn’t know whether she was more horrified over my rank, or if she thought I was actually offering friendship, but she just stood there, wide-eyed and silent.
 
“Anyway...” I made a few air circles with my hand. “You know the drill. Any mail for me?”
 
She shook her head.
 
“Then I’d like—”
 
“Just write your damn letter and leave!” she shouted, levitating a piece of paper across the room at me.
 
Rude as she was, I wasn’t going to complain about getting out of there sooner. I took the paper and went over to the usual desk. Then, despite having more going on in my life in one week than I had in years, I realized I didn’t know how to start my letter to Dash. I had almost killed her as part of a nervous breakdown or something; I didn’t know how to address that. Should I be coy, like, “How’s your neck?” or repentant, like, “I’m so sorry...”
 
Finally, I settled on:
 


Hey Dash,
 
How have you been?
 
I still think about everything that happened two weeks ago, but I don’t know what else to say. Part of me hopes there’s nothing left TO say, but still... I’m sorry.
 
I know the conditions for coming back to Ponyville, but until then, I figure we can still do this the old-school way, right?
 
In other news, I got a job in Farrington. I’m a city guard now. I’m not sure how much I’m going to like it, but it beats sitting around my cave waiting doing nothing.
 
At least now I can afford all those nice things I’ve always talked about buying.
 
Hah.
 
 Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon,
 
 ~G.


 
I reread the letter, scowling at my scratched-out mistake. Then again, I doubted that Dash would read too much into it. If anything, I was more worried about whether my joke would make sense without me actually saying it. But I figured that if Dash were cool with me, I’d get points for trying. At that, I rolled up my scroll, wrote Dash’s address on the outside, paid its postage, and left without so much as a “thanks.”
 
There wasn’t anything else I really wanted to do in the city, so now that I had finished with my letter, I made my way to the south gate. I wanted to rest and enjoy my weekend; next week, I was going to be Officer Gilda of the Farrington Guard.