The Wonder Years
Chapter 4: Pancakes and Politics With a Side of Haybacon
Canterlot Castle, Canterlot
“This is so boring! Seriously, why’d you force me to tag along with you guys?”
Her head hurt. Nothing like starting the morning with a throbbing headache. Rainbow Dash heaved a tired sigh for what was, by her count, the third time in the last five minutes.
Sure, Dust had a point. They had arrived for Rainbow’s meeting a couple of hours earlier than strictly necessary, but that was the way of things.
Canterlot ran on its own clock. If you were on time, you were late. If you were early, you were on time. Somedays, Rainbow really missed the sleepy pace of good old Ponyville.
She wished Lightning Dust would just let the issue go already.
“I mean, I missed breakfast—the most important meal of the day.” A pinion from Lightning’s left wing folded down as she listed each item. “I’m pretty sure our illustrious captain can take care of things by herself.” A yawn escaped as they marched down the hallway, and she picked up her pace to keep her position on Rainbow’s left.
“Because a captain’s got to keep up appearances,” Cloud Kicker explained from their captain’s right flank. “You ever see branch heads without a swarm of adjuncts?” She waved towards the crowd of functionaries milling about their business as the trio cut a path. “I don’t think so. We don’t want our Rainbow looking like a chump, do we? Still, it’s not fair you won’t let us stick around and meet the Princess, Dash. What’s the big deal?” she asked, flapping once to get in front of her captain, forehooves crossed and wearing a mockery of a sulky frown.
Dash rolled her eyes. “Because a captain’s got to keep up appearances.”
“C’mon. I won’t even talk. You won’t hear a single double entendre, I swear.”
“Yeah,” Lightning added. “You dragged us all the way here. Least you could do is let me get an autograph.”
Cloud Kicker tapped her chin. “Didn’t you almost get Her Highness killed once?”
“Meh.” Lightning Dust shrugged. “She didn’t have a crown back then. What’s your point?”
Rainbow just let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.
I really can’t deal with the Wonder Twins today, she thought.
Over the last week, affairs had not progressed the way she’d wanted, chipping away at what little patience she’d started with. First, the pegasi from Ponville’s weather team remained stuck in processing, so she was still short-staffed. No amount of angry letters fired from her desk seemed to move the bureaucracy to work any faster.
Maybe calling them all, ‘The end spawn of four pints of lager and defective contraceptive’ had been a bit overtop. I really need to learn to proofread letters before mailing them.
In any case, hopefully Twilight could make all her paperwork problems disappear with the stroke of her quill. Then there was the all-powerful House of Stable Lords’ subcommittee on military affairs which held her purse strings.
Where I’ll have to get on my knees and beg like a dog. “I hate politics.”
“Too late for regrets now, boss.” Cloud Kicker poked at the badge on her captain’s chest. The ghost of a rather smug grin tugged at the corners of her lips as Rainbow snorted. “I did warn you, new brass starts at the bottom of the totem pole. You’re gonna have to fight beak and claw for every last bit.”
“I’m not a griffon, CK.”
“Better learn to fight like one quick. The Guard, the Navy, all of them will tear you apart if you don’t. We may be brothers in arms, all singing kumbaya when the enemy’s at the gates, but in peacetime…” She stopped to chuckle. “In peacetime we’re all starved dogs fighting over scraps.”
“And that’s why I need this meeting to go well. Twilight can make all our money and personnel problem disappear with a stroke of a pen.” Rainbow looked at each of them with a frown. “And that’s why I’m not risking any shenanigans from you two.”
Cloud gasped loudly. “Shenanigans? Us? I’m offended and hurt. Hurt and offended.” Rainbow Dash sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Cloud Kicker turned up her nose, hamming it up. “Why, I bet Dusty here is just as devastated by your lack of faith in your trusty subordinates. Right, Dust?”
Her wingmate looked up from reading a bodybuilding magazine. “Sorry, wasn’t listening.” Lighting swept a hoof towards the rows and rows of shelves. “So, why are we in a library, anyhow? Kinda odd for a princess to have her digs in a library, don’t ya think?” She sidestepped a cart overburdened with books. The page called out a brief apology before disappearing among the stacks. “You’d figure royalty got their own private digs or something.”
As they weaved around scurrying patrons, Rainbow chuckled. “That’s a long complicated story, Dust.” One Rainbow happened to enjoy retelling.
It was point of fact: Twilight Sparkle loved books. On a few occasions, Rainbow Dash even accused Twilight of having an unhealthy relationship with books. Especially the complete twenty-seven volume set of trashy romance novels by Bodice Ripper complete with autograph that Twilight still believed none of her friends knew about. The ones inside the triple warded chest stashed under her bed.
No, the issue began during a party where somepony gifted her with a book. Again, not an obvious problem. Equestria’s newest princesses turning into squealing, giggly mess in the middle of a ball attended by the Canterlot Elite and most of the media over said book—a rare first edition spellbook by some egghead unicorn Dash couldn’t remember the name of—however, sent tongues wagging.
Twilight, of course remained oblivious to the chatter; until one day, the Griffon ambassador arrived for trade talks and, per tradition, he bore gifts for each princess. A bejeweled Fabergé griffon egg for Princess Celestia. A delicate silver circlet for Princess Luna. For Princess Twilight, 1001 Questions You Had About Griffons But Were Afraid To Ask Unabridged Edition.
This trend continued. From diplomats to everyday petitioners, they all brought her some manner of written material as tribute. Later, publishers got into the act, sending her first editions in hopes of garnering a ringing endorsement from the newly nicknamed, “Princess of Books.”
Soon her castle in Ponyville became the envy of bibliophiles the land over. Books, scrolls, tomes, pamphlets, even a few wood carvings steadily filled every nook and cranny.
And the funniest part? Twilight couldn’t refuse. Decorum and her own love of books forbade it. As Celestia had once explained after Twilight complained about the growing mountain of dry paper turning her once spacious bedroom into Equestria’s greatest fire hazard: Twilight Sparkle’s polite refusal of a gift meant nothing to the average pony. Princess Twilight Sparkle’s refusal, however, could ruin a pony’s life and reputation.
Applejack, ever practical, had helpfully offered to take any unwanted volumes to fuel her furnace in winter.
“...Twilight wasn’t allowed back at Sweet Apple Acres until Applejack’s tail grew back.” Rainbow smiled at the memory. She’d kept a few snapshots of the farmer, strictly for posterity of course and not at all to bust AJ’s chops at every opportunity. “Eventually, she just threw up her hooves and moved here, into the palace library.”
“Well, as interesting as that story was,” Lightning Dust said with yawn. “I think we should head down to the cafeteria. I’m starved.”
“You’re in luck,” said Cloud Kicker as they turned around. “They serve some of the best waffles around.”
Watching the pair walk away, Dash called after them, “And keep out of trouble!” There came back two flippant salutes.
“Jawohl, mein Kapitän!”
“Sí, mi capitán!”
Dash shook her head as she watched them disappear around a corner.
Taking a moment to straighten her uniform, Rainbow about-faced and marched towards Twilight’s office with her back straight and head lifted high.
Until she met the other pair of flyers that made her want to tear her mane out in patches every time they crossed paths.
"Halt!" announced the first diminutive thestral, his membranous wings outstretched and his somewhat smallish form outfitted in the fabulous pink and gold of Twilight's Library Guard that no self-respecting Royal Guard could have been forced into at spearpoint. Peanut was holding said spearpoint across the chamber door in the stiffest formal stance possible, despite Rainbow's many, many encounters with himself and his brother during previous trips.
"State your name and business!" announced the other, a perfect mirror image of his twin with exactly the same attitude and formality that was driving Rainbow crazy.
A hoof massaged her temples. It didn’t help. “Peanut, you know who I am. Do we really have to go through this every time?”
The guard opened his mouth in a vague ‘O’, somewhere between surprise and mild offense at the very notion. “But, Captain. Being a herald for Her Highness is my job, sorta thing.”
“I thought we was guards, Peanut?” the other batpony asked of his twin.
“Right you are, Brittle.” Peanut nodded to his brother. “And part of being a guard is announcing visitors to Her Highness’s chamber as loudly as possible in the traditional fashion of the Night Guard, passed down through the ages ever since—”
“Look!” she snapped, puffing up in annoyance. “I really don’t have time for this, guys. Just let me in.”
“But-but.” They appeared to get upset. “It’s so boorring, sorta thing.” Peanut whined.
“Nothing ever happens ‘round here,” Brittle added. “Best we got was last week when some daft pony spilt their latte on the encyclopedias. The Head Librarian almost turned the poor lad into a shish kebab.”
“Yeah, can you just let us have this one thing, Captain? I herald therefore I am. It’s what we do. It’s tradition, sort of thing,” Peanut begged. “Pleeeese?”
It took a moment but she gave in to the inevitable with a groan. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“Yay!” Peanut stood up straight and cleared his throat. Brittle opened the doors as his twin bellowed, “ANNOUNCING CAPTAIN RAINBOW DASH OF THE WONDERBOLTS. BEARER OF THE ELEMENT OF LOYALTY. REVIVER OF THE SONIC RAINBOOM. TWO TIME—”
The rest was cut off by the door being slammed shut.
The Princess was seated behind her desk, talking to a stallion in a chef’s jacket. “Ah, Rainbow, you’re here early,” Twilight said. “Please take a seat. Can I interest you in a midmorning snack? Oh wait. First let me introduce you to my new personal chef, Sous-vide.”
“A new one? What happened to whatshisname?”
“Gastrique?” Twilight shrugged. “Quit last month. Fourth one this year. I can’t imagine why.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The chef spoke in a heavy Prench accent. “It is indeed the mystery of our time why graduates of Equestria’s finest culinary institutes, trained in cuisine from all over the world, would leave your service. Now, let’s go over your order: one daisy sandwich.”
“Toasted.”
“Yes.” A muscle clenched in his jaw. “At precisely five hundred and five degrees Kelvin for thirty seconds per side before being bisected along the longitudinal axis into two isosceles triangles of equal dimension. Would you possibly wish for anything to drink with your sandwich?”
“And an apple juice from Sweet Apple Acres, in juicebox. Don’t want to risk any spills”
“And a Sweet Apple Acres juicebox. How very daring. Your Highness, I could not help but notice that you ordered precisely the same items yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.”
“Exactly!” Twilight beamed. “I’m so easy to please. I don’t get why ponies keep leaving.”
“Quite the mystery, Your Highness,” he muttered under his breath. “Quite the mystery indeed.” The chef turned his attention to the other pony in the room with a raised eyebrow and hint of a smile. “And pour vous, Capitain? Something other than a daisy sandwich, perhaps?”
“Hmm,” she said, rubbing her chin. “Well, I did miss breakfast.”
“Then allow me to prepare something. How about a lovely breakfast souffle? A light seasonal fruit salad, perhaps? Ah!” he exclaimed, eyes filled full of hope. “An athlete such as yourself requires a protein-rich meal, no? May I suggest Eggs Florentine, drizzled with hollandaise? Freshly prepared, of course.”
“Hmm…” She thought for a moment. “Yeah, I could go for some eggs. But none of that frufru stuff. Do me a triple fried egg sandwich. Oh, and with chili sauce and chutney,” she added.
“I beg your pardon?” All hope in Sous-vide’s eyes vanished, replaced by an irregular twitch.
“Look, it's easy. Just fry four eggs, put them between three pieces of bread—”
“Yes, you imbecile! I know how to make a blinking—” He swallowed, regaining some composure and the fancy accent he’d inexplicably lost during his outburst. “My apologies, mon Capitan. Is there a particular variety of chilli sauce you wish upon your refreshment?”
“Umm… the red stuff? And don’t skimp. If I don’t feel like I’m having a baby, you haven’t used enough.”
The chef looked like he was about to say something, but then bit down hard on his lower lip. “Very good. And what type of bread does one prefer?”
She stared at him blankly. “There’s more than one?”
He again paused before taking another deep breath. “I see. Very well. I shall return shortly with your… food.”
“So,” Twilight began after the chef departed. “Tell me, is being Captain of the Wonderbolts a dream come true?”
“As if,” Dash snorted. “Try a nightmare.” She stood up and began to pace, occasionally throwing out a hoof as all her frustrations spilled out. “I’m buried under paperwork. I went to bed hating myself because I had to chew out Scootaloo in front of the entire class. Cloudchaser came by with the replacements from Ponyville Weather, and none of them can legally wear the uniform. All their forms are still in limbo, and no one in Administration will give me a straight answer on what the hold up is. And worse, my budget’s still the smallest in Wonderbolt history.
“Cloud Kicker says just because I’m the new girl they think they can jerk me around. It’s just… It’s just nothing’s working out the way I expected, ya know?” She stopped and turned to Twilight with a deep frown on her face then let out a breath. “Sorry. Just really needed to vent.”
Twilight waved a dainty hoof dismissively. “It’s fine. Tell you what. I’ll apply a little princess pressure to expedite all that nasty paperwork. Actually, what you need is a secretary, and I know the perfect candidate. She's a little obsessive about neatness, but I'm sure you two will get along just fine.”
That got a raised eyebrow from Rainbow. “Um... You're telling me she's a neat freak? That's like Fluttershy calling somepony shy or Rarity calling them overdressed.”
Twilight returned a flat look. “Do you want her or not?”
“Yes, yes!” Rainbow backpedalled, waving her hooves. “I’ll take her, I’ll take her.”
Soon enough, the chef returned with their orders, placing each sandwich in front their owner. “Your food, mesdemoiselles.”
“Sweet! Thanks!” Tossing aside the parsley garnish, Rainbow wasted no time in diving into her sandwich with table manners more akin to a pack of starving weasels than a pony.
“Sacre bleu!”
“I’d stay back, if were you,” Twilight warned the chef as sizable chunks of egg and chili sauce flew in every direction. “Unless you want to lose a leg.” She took a bite of her own sandwich, chewing at more sedate pace as they watched the overstuffed sandwich rapidly vanish down Rainbow’s gullet. “My, she must really like it. She never licked the plate clean back in Ponyville.”
Finished, Dash tossed the now empty plate onto the desk and let out a loud belch. “Ahh,” she sighed, rubbing her stomach. “That hit the spot.”
Twilight giggled at her chef’s goggled-eyed expression and dismissed him with a promise to have the dishes sent down later before raising an eyebrow at the pegasus. “Four eggs, really? That hardly sounds healthy.”
“It’s no biggie. I’ll burn it off in no time. Got to fuel the engine, you know,” she said, patting her own trim midsection. “How about you? Looks like royal life agrees with you.”
Twilight smoothed out her dress, but it didn’t help hide the slight bulge. Her cheeks reddened. “I may have gained a few pounds.”
“Princess of the Purple Pudge!” Rainbow Dash snarked. Said princess returned a flat look. “Or how about Princess Eggplant… err… butt?”
“Do you want me to turn you into an eggplant?”
Rainbow giggled while waving her hooves. “Oh c’mon, Twilight. I’m just kidding around. Trust me, I’ve seen worse. Stop by the academy. A few laps, some pushups, and we’ll have you back in shape in no time. Anyways, back at ya. How’s life as The Princess of Books?”
“You know the old saying: ‘heavy is the the head that wears the crown.’ Well, I’ve developed a throbbing headache,” Twilight gestured to the mess of papers spread over her desk, the number and height of which, Rainbow admitted, made her own desk look organized. The glow of magic began to reconcile the chaos. “Sometimes I wonder if the only reason Celestia promoted me was to pawn off her workload. She galivants off to preside over weddings and kiss babies while I’m stuck reviewing laws and dealing with nobles sniffing at my heels. One day I’m going to lose it and turn one of them into a cockroach. Who knows; that might be an improvement.”
Rainbow offered a shrug. “Tried asking Princess Luna for help?”
“Ha!" Twilight sniffed. “Believe me, I’ve tried. ‘Such drudgery be the responsibility of the day, young Twilight. Thou hast our sympathies, but we must sleep if we are to be sufficiently rested to protect Our ponies lest they fall prey to the many terrors lurking in the darkness. Both real and of their own wild imaginations! Neigh, in our time, my sister and I would put such accursed parchment to the flame and any noble foolish enough to displease us to the sword. That be our advice to thee!’” A derisive snort escaped her nostrils. “Fighting monsters. Phah! Princess of the Night my purple plot! More like Princess of the Night-club, if you believe the tabloids.”
Twilight reached inside a drawer and withdrew a bottle of bourbon marked ‘From Trixie, TG&P’ with an expensive label and a matching shot glass. “Want some?”
“It’s bit early in the day, dontcha think?”
“A Princess’s privileged prerogative, my pegasus praetor.” Twilight laughed then measured out precisely one-point-five fluid ounces, as marked on her graduated shot glass, before quaffing it in a single swallow. A satisfied ‘ahh’ followed as the alcohol ran down her throat. “Now,” she said, capping and returning the bottle to its hiding place, “we have two hours to prepare for the meeting with Blueblood’s budget committee.”
Rainbow waved a hoof. “I’ve got this, Twi. A bit of my winning charm, a few words from you on how important the Wonderbolts are for Equestria’s security, and boom! Budget restored.”
“My word, isn’t she confident?” Rainbow heard a voice say from behind.
“Ah, Miss Bookish Delight,” Twilight greeted the Head Librarian. The pink earth pony wore a green turtleneck and her purple mane was done up in a matronly bun. “Thank you for coming. How are you?”
“Just wonderful, Princess. Patrons have become so gentle with the books since you took up residence,” Miss Bookish Delight cheerfully replied. “So much so that I no longer need to bring out The Stick With Sharp Pointy Bits On The End.”
“Don’t you mean a spear?” asked Rainbow, eye drawn to the short spear strapped to the librarian's side.
“Oh no, dear. Only guards are cleared to carry spears. This is The Stick With Sharp Pointy Bits On The End. Completely different. For instance, a spear only has one sharp pointy bit on the end.”
"I see. Wait a sec, there’s dried blood on the tip!”
“Do you have any overdue books from our friendly little library?” Her cheerful smile didn’t waver. Rainbow shifted in her seat and shook her head, trying not to think of the pile of books that were likely still gathering dust under her bed back in Ponyville. “Then you needn’t worry.” She pushed her thick-rimmed glasses up her snout as she made her way towards the desk, flanked on either side Peanut and Brittle.
“Hey!” Rainbow turned to address the two thestral guards. “How come you guys didn’t announce her? What happened to I herald therefore I am?”
“The Head Librarian don’t likes it when we shout,” explained Brittle.
“What he said, sorta thing,” Peanut said, concurring with his twin.
“Don’t mind Miss Bookish Delight,” Twilight leaned forward and whispered to Rainbow Dash. “She’s a touch eccentric. I blame the absinthe.” She turned to the librarian. “Were you able to retrieve the book I requested for Captain Dash?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Miss Delight said, sliding a thick hardcover in front of Rainbow.
“Saying A Lot While Saying Nothing: The Art of Sounding Intelligent, by Balderdash Silvertongue.” Rainbow read the title with a perplexed expression. “Twi, do you think I’m dumb? I can talk just fine!”
“I didn’t call you dumb, Rainbow,” Twilight said defensively. “It’s just that, in politics, what you say isn’t nearly as important as how intelligent you sound while presenting your argument.”
“Her Highness is correct, Captain,” added Miss Delight. “Balderdash Silvertongue’s work is required reading among the ruling class, and has been for centuries.”
“So according to this, I need to string together as many big words as I can, even if they mean absolute garbage?” Rainbow said, sounding irritated as she flipped through the pages. “What’s the point of that?”
“To obfuscate,” Twilight said.
“To make one sound cleverer than one’s rivals,” the Head Librarian added.
“It’s so ingrained in political life that it became a verb named after him: BSing.” Twilight leaned forward with steepled hooves. “Rainbow, you’ve got to learn to BS, and BS as hard as you can at the committee hearing.”
Looking from the book to Twilight’s serious expression and the grinning librarian standing over her shoulder, Rainbow figured she was stuck. With a groan, she flipped to page one.
Hopefully, Cloud Kicker and Lightning Dust appreciated how lucky they were.
They’re probably having relaxing breakfast right now.
Canterlot Castle Barracks, Cafeteria
Cloud Kicker ducked behind the cafeteria table, narrowly missing the barrage of waffles that pounded overhead. Unfortunately, Lightning Dust had never really participated in a Royal Guard Food Fight before, and lacked that special fraction of a second worth of experience that, in this case, meant catching the followup salvo of sticky pancakes right in the face. Landing behind the table next to Cloud Kicker in a sticky splat, she grimaced in pain.
“They've taken over the main serving line. We'll never root them out of there unless we can somehow make our way over to the waffle iron and make some replacement ammunition—” Cloud Kicker gave her cheek a quick lick. Lightning recoiled, wiping away the wet spot as fast as possible. “CK, why?!” she cried.
“What? It’s my favorite brand of syrup. That stuff’s expensive, you know.” Cloud Kicker grabbed an apple from the fruit bar that had tipped over and scattered breakfast items all over the nearby floor. “Anyway, it’s all your fault we’re in this mess.” She popped out of cover long enough to fling it at an advancing guard, the fruit impacting his face in a juicy explosion of pulp and seeds. “I don't think they appreciated what you called that one guard's mother.”
“How was I supposed to know she worked the grill here?!” shouted Lightning in return. She held up a serving tray to block a sudden onslaught of baked beans that splattered against the metal with a sharp clang.
“But a drill sergeant's mom? Of everypony here, really?” Cloud Kicker commented as they dove behind a hot buffet line, narrowly avoiding an incoming storm of granola. With walnuts.
“Look, can we continue this chat after we’ve found some better cover, please?” asked Lightning Dust. “They’ve got hash browns! Hash browns! Those suckers sting like—” A ball of piping hot glop sailed overhead. “Wonderful! Now they’ve built an oatmeal catapult!” She peeked around a corner of the table. “And they’re loading it with maple and brown sugar flavor. I hate oatmeal with maple and brown sugar! Damn heathens, you only need raisins and a touch of cinnamon!” she shouted at them.
“Talk about a sticky situation,” quipped Cloud Kicker with a smile.
Dust groaned and shook her head. “Really? You had to use that line? Couldn’t come up with anything better?” She peeked over the table again. The front entrance was blocked by the oat-a-pault. They’re only hope was to brave a deadly gauntlet of fruit salad stations which lined the only clear route to the cafeteria’s secondary exit.
Soldiers were maneuvering to flank their position. Dust wished they could just fly out of there, but they’d be shot down by a banana barrage faster than Cloud Kicker could make a dirty joke involving bananas. Those soldiers were damn snipers with those potassium rich missiles of doom.
She suddenly regretted passing up that one self-defense course in college. At the time, she’d thought the instructor was a nutter for claiming fresh fruit was a lethal weapon. “When you're walking home tonight and some great homicidal maniac comes after YOU with a bunch of loganberries, don't come cryin' to me!" she remembered him shouting. Showed what she knew.
“Charging for the door is utter suicide,” Cloud Kicker told her. “Those slices of kiwi look razor-sharp! Kiwi!” she spat in disgust. “What kind of monsters ruins a perfectly good fruit salad with kiwi? Is there no decency in this world? Anyway, I calculate our chances of making it out at about one in ten.”
Lighting Dust returned a feral grin. “Never tell me the odds,” she said, getting into a running position. She might have to be carried out on a tray, but at least she wasn't doing paperwork like Dash.
Canterlot Castle
Military Budget Committee Hearing
“Again, Captain. Please tell this committee why it should restore funding of your little acrobatic troupe. Especially now that its most prominent members have chosen retirement?”
In Rainbow’s expert opinion, Prince Blueblood possessed one of the most punchable faces in all of Equestria. Protocol prevented her from saying so out loud, however, and she fought to keep her poker face as he looked down at her, all smug and comfortable from one of the row of plush faux-leather armchairs set behind the committee's bench. She was stuck behind a tiny wooden table.
Dash knew it was all on purpose. Everything in the chamber was designed to make the subject feel small, at the mercy of her betters. Wood paneling surrounded her on all sides. The dark shade of the stain and the lack of windows lent the space a claustrophobic air.
Her wings twitched.
Or it’s just my inner pegasus talking, she supposed as she shifted in her chair. It too was on the small side, constructed out of hard, unyielding oak, with no cushioning whatsoever. The narrow armrests forced her wings against her sides, and it was killing her.
Not that she would give them the satisfaction of showing it.
The expressions of the committee members ranged from bored to smug satisfaction. Not that the small fish mattered. This was Blueblood’s theatre. She was in a dogfight in his airspace armed only with a stack of note cards helpfully provided by Twilight.
At least she wasn’t flying without a wingpony. Twilight nodded from her raised throne which occupied one corner of the chamber. It was tradition for one to always be available just in case a princess decided to attend a hearing.
Twilight raised a hoof an inch off her armrest. It was a tiny gesture, but to those who knew court politics, enough to convey her support.
Dash glanced at her notecards one last time and cleared her throat. “During The Era of the Lonely Sun, and…” She trailed off. Staring back at her was card after card of high-priced, gourmet word salad. What had Twilight been thinking? Based on how many syllables stringing them together, some of these words were worth at least ten-bits each. Something about dark times, blah, blah. Ponies longing for a symbol of hope. Something about Commander Firefly, etceteria.
“Screw it!” The notes cards went flying over one shoulder. “Look, I’ll admit we’re in a bit of a… let’s say, ‘a downturn’ right now, but I promise you, if you give me a chance, then I can bring us back to, heck, beyond our previous glory!” Her voice rose as stood up from her chair. “Ever since our founding, the Wonderbolts have strived to remain a beacon of excellence. But we can’t fulfill our mission if you clip our wings!” She looked each of committee member in the eye before making eye contact with Twilight who nodded. “Just cut our bindings and let us fly free. Thank you.”
She returned to her seat as Twilight graced her with a smile, and she figured she’d done a decent job.
A slow clap echoed through the chamber.
“A fine performance, Captain.” Prince Blueblood wore a smile so oily, Dash half expected it to slide off and stain the carpet. “It appears our Princess Twilight is an excellent tutor. She has trained you well. Perhaps for your next trick you will roll over on command.” Sycophantic chuckles emanated from his allies to be interrupted by a sharp rebuke by the princess in the room.
“I find your comments rude and uncalled for, Blueblood!” Twilight said from her throne, frowning deeply.
“My apologies, Princess,” Blueblood replied, in a tone which lacked anything close to sincerity. “In any case, I fail to see why the funding cuts should be rescinded.” The smirk on his lips grew wider. “Funding cuts, I might remind everyone, you, Your Highness, proposed in the first place. How very odd that you would push to see them rescinded after your chosen candidate was put in charge.”
Twilight put paid to what she thought of that notion with a loud, overblown scoff. “You should look to your own dealings before accusing any pony of nepotism, Blueblood. Considering how you have a major stake in most of the companies on the receiving end of government contracts. How is the Navy’s new dreadnaught coming along, by the way? Rumor has it they are planning on naming it the The Pride of Blueblood. That must be nice.”
“As nice as the twenty percent apple subsidy you snuck into the last session’s agriculture bill. Must be nice for that farmer friend of yours.” Twilight blanched. “All immaterial to the subject at hoof,” Blueblood casually dismissed with a wave of his foreleg. “The question becomes, does Equestria require the Wonderbolts any longer? In fact, we could save several hundred thousand bits by disbanding them altogether.”
“Over my dead body, you will!” Dash yelled, jumping up. “And there’s no way we spend that much!”
“Kindly rein in your dog, Princess. The carpet is very expensive. And as you’ve noted—In your rather unrefined manner, Captain—the Wonderbolts were meant as a beacon during Equestria’s time with only one princess to guide it. However, now that we appear to be living in an age where alicorns seem to be popping up like mayflies, you and your troupe are no longer necessary.
Twilight rose from her throne to her friend’s defense. “Everypony here knows that the Wonderbolts play a critical role in Equestrian life. Supervision of hurricane duty, combating severe weather events. And not to mention the support they offer Equestria’s air defense.”
Blueblood let a contemptuous yawn. “One: Cloudsdale Weather Management is more than capable of filling any void left over by their absence. Second: the Wonderbolts haven’t seen combat action since Tirek. Where they failed. Not to mention the changeling invasion. Where, again, they failed. The dragon rampage in Ponyville was just the icing on the cake. Face it. The Wonderbolts have been reduced to the level of circus performers. The Royal Guard can protect our airspace and take any assets the Wonderbolts leave behind,” he said, smiling down as Rainbow held her scowl in check through gritted teeth.
“You have barely enough cadets to fill out your academy. Even after you’ve broken tradition by allowing in—Ugh.” He gagged on the next word as if he had taken a sip of wine gone sour. “Minorities.”
“There’s nothing wrong with griffons or batponies!” Dash exclaimed in the face of the growing murmurs from the rest of the committee.
Blueblood raised an eyebrow. “So you’re in agreement with Princess Twilight’s radical We Are All Equestrian’s Act?”
“Granting equal rights to nonponies is not a radical proposal!” Twilight snapped. “They do just as much for Equestria as everypony else.”
“Hardly.” The Prince rolled his eyes. “Bad enough since Princess Luna’s return, thestrals have begun migrating back to Equestria. At least they are vaguely equine. But you would put us on the same level as griffons or donkeys. Why should we allow them citizenship?”
“They pay taxes like everypony else and deserve not to be exploited,” Twilight argued back. “In fact, they pay more per capita than ponies and should to be allowed to vote and have a say.”
Blueblood gave a harrumph. “Of course they should pay taxes. Nonponies benefit the most from our social programs—”
“A proven fallacy!”
“—These minorities suckle at Equestria’s teat, but when it needs defending, do you see any rushing to join our brave mares and stallions defending the nation? No!”
“Only citizens can join the military. You know that, Blueblood.”
That he smirked, and Twilight didn’t immediately turn him into a cactus irritated Dash to no end. Blasted etiquette.
“It’s too great a security risk to allow noncitizens to enlist. Who knows where their true loyalties would lie.”
“I think we’ll be addressing that paradox soon enough, Blueblood,” Twilight countered with a hint of smugness. “As you stated, both a thestral and a griffon are among the latest batch of Wonderbolt cadets.”
“Yes, yes. Everypony here is well aware of your discovery of that clever little loophole,” Blueblood admitted with a sniff.
Where the rest of the military was restricted to Equestrian citizens, whoever had drafted the Wonderbolt charter had gotten sloppy and used the word ‘residents’ instead of ‘citizens’ when specifying qualifications for membership. Twilight had promptly rammed a saw into that loophole and cut a hole big enough to fit two new 'Bolts through.
Honestly, Dash had never knew about the restriction until now, so hadn’t blinked twice when Genevieve and Sweet Dreams had shown up as last minute additions to the roster. She should have suspected Twilight’s hoof. She wasn’t sure if she enjoyed being a guinea pig in one of Twilight Sparkle’s social experiments, but Rainbow was damned if she was going to let Blueblood get another lick in.
Dash felt the debate leaving her out and interjected, “Yeah, what species they were born into doesn’t matter. If they’ve got wings, then I’ll have them doing stunts that’ll blow your mind.”
“Oh, so you think you can make them equal to all the pegasi who came before?” Blueblood asked to which Dash buffed her chest.
“I don’t think so. I know so. And they won’t just be equal. They’ll be miles better!”
“Whether you think or not is debatable.” Blueblood rubbed his chin in thought before saying, “Very well. I propose a challenge.”
“Bring it on! Captain Dash never backs down from a challenge.” She ignored the panicked waving coming from Twilight’s direction.
“In eight weeks time,” Blueblood said, “a trade delegation is scheduled to depart for Saddle Arabia to work out terms over the exchange of Equestrian weather management services for Saddle Arabian textiles and spices. Their current government is quite hidebound and is skeptical as to the merits of such an agreement. Maybe a suitably spectacular display by Equestria’s premier ‘weather’ team would impress them enough to agree to our terms. Succeed, and we’ll restore full funding and assets to the Wonderbolts. I’ll even throw my support behind Princess Twilight’s silly little proposal.”
“Challenge accepted! I’ll have my senior officers prepped in no time.”
“Actually,” Blueblood interrupted her premature congratulations. “I think a show by your cadets and your cadets alone would be truer test of your leadership skills, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”
Dash kept her face neutral as inside her head she did a quick calculation. With raw cadets, eight weeks was cutting it close. Too close. But what choice did she really have? You know what? I got this. No problem. Because you know who you are? “I’m Rainbow Dash!”
Coughs.
“Umm, yes. We are aware of your name, Captain,” said Blueblood sounding as perplexed as his fellows. “And I take by your bright-eyed confidence that you accept my terms.” Dash nodded. “Excellent! Then I believe we are finished for the day, ladies and gentlecolts. Meeting adjourned. Oh, and one last thing,” he added just as everyone made to leave. “Are you certain you can prepare a suitable show with a griffon who barely speaks Equestrian and a batpony who failed to break out of her specie’s nocturnal cycle? But, I’m sure you’re up to task. You’re the legendary Rainbow Dash, after all.”
Perplexed by his parting comment, after the room emptied, Dash met a fidgeting Twilight pacing around one of the many marble columns framing the hallway outside. The alicorn’s guards stood off to one side, glaring at anypony who might encroach on their sovereign's personal fret-zone. The little dome of silence she’d cast helped too.
Rainbow had a bad feeling about this. “Twilight, what the hay was Blueblood talking about in there?”
By now, Twilight was hopping from one leg to the other. “Dash, what were the names of those two cadets again?” She smacked her face against the barrier repeatedly when Dash named them off. “Those aren’t the cadets I put forward, Dash.”
“What?”
“Somepony must have switched the files!” Twilight said in rising panic. “First off, I greenlit a stallion and a… and a…” Twilight appeared so flustered the proper term wasn’t coming.
“A tercel?” Rainbow supplied.
“Right! Exactly! A tercel! Not a mare and a hen. Which, now that I think about it, doesn’t make sense. How can a griffon lay eggs when their rear-half is a lion? I need to go look this up right now!”
“Twilight!” Rainbow snapped. “Focus!”
“Sorry. Right. Second, I would never recommend anyone who couldn’t speak basic Equestrian.” She growled in frustration. “Blueblood knew the whole time. We’ve been outmaneuvered!”
Now it became Rainbow’s turn to bang her head against the wall. “All right, look. I’ll let Genevieve and Sweet Dreams go. We’ll switch them out. Simple.”
Eyes widened. “You can’t do that, Rainbow!” Twilight exclaimed, grabbing Dash by the shoulders and shaking her.
“I can’t have flyers in the sky who are half asleep or can’t communicate with their teammates, Twilight. They’d be a hazard to eveypony else up there.”
“But you can’t!” Twilight pleaded. “If word gets out that the first minority Wonderbolt cadets in history were kicked out of the academy, it would set The We Are All Equestrians Act back years! It’ll be seen as a failure! My failure! Blueblood and his cronies will make sure the press roasts me on a spit!”
The signs of a typical Twilight breakdown were all there. She collapsed to the floor in a curled up in a babbling ball of pent up neuroticism. “I’ll be a laughing stock. Princess Celestia will be forced to revoke my princesshood just to save the reputation of the Crown! What if they have to amputate my wings?!“
Dash had just about enough. “Twi, get ahold of yourself!” She pulled her up by the armpits and grabbed the alicorn firmly by the shoulders, looking her square in the eye. “Fine. I won’t drop them from the roster. I’ll think of something. But you need to come clean with me right now. You know, normally I wouldn’t wipe my butt with anything that comes out of Blueblood’s mouth...”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming,” Twilight said. “You’re wondering if I maneuvered you into position?”
“Well yeah. Kinda.” A cold feeling grew in the pit of Rainbow’s stomach when her friend looked downcast at the floor, not answering right away.
After a second, Twilight looked up again. “What was I supposed to do, huh?” Her voice grew heated. “Spitfire wouldn’t cooperate with me. Too bound by tradition. ‘The Wonderbolts have been pegasi for the past several thousand years,’ she said. ‘No way, no how is that changing on my watch,’ she told me.”
Rainbow blinked. “So those pension changes…”
Twilight held up a hoof. “Well, I couldn’t just fire her, could I? How would that look? Equestria’s newest princess just barging in and throwing her weight around, dismissing ponies who didn’t agree with her? The press would have a field day. So, maybe I created an environment a touch more conducive to her resigning. I didn’t think for a moment that they’d all follow her.”
“So it’s true?” Rainbow snarled. Her wings unfurled to their full impressive span as she advanced on the alicorn. “The only reason I got this job is because you needed a pawn?!”
“Of course not!” Twilight shot back, her own wings mirroring the pegasus, both mares circling each other. “You’re a knight at least.” Her quip didn’t lessen the scowl pointed at her. “Besides, we both know it was only a matter of time until you wore that pin.” She twirled a hoof in the air. “I simply accelerated the process by a few years, nothing more.”
“It’s not nothing! I wanted to earn it! You knew that, Twilight. Not have it giftwrapped like some sort of cheap birthday present. You’re hoofing out favors for your friends just like those shady newspapers said. Favors we didn’t even ask for. That apple whatever Blueblood was talking about. What’s the deal with that? If AJ finds out, she’ll flip her lid. Heck, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t stomp up here just to buck some sense into you. We both know this is the sort of back scratching that really burns her bushel.”
“So?” Twilight spat. “The currency of politics is influence, Rainbow Dash. And let me tell you, I’ve done favors for far, far less deserving ponies. Going to all their little parties. Dancing for their amusement. A wink and a nod here. A whispered promise there. All in hopes that maybe, just maybe, when I propose a new law or program it won’t be sucked into the black hole of some committee never to be heard about again!”
Rainbow stood with mouth agape as the rant continued to grow more and more unhinged, punctuated by bouts of heavy breathing by the alicorn. More than a few purple feathers floated to the floor, breaking up the uniform white of the tiles as Twilight paced in circles around the pegasus.
“Oh yes! They respect Princess Celestia. They respect the dickens out of her! Princess Luna scares the ponyfeathers out of the nobility. They don’t dare mess with a princess who can plumb all your deepest, darkest secrets while you’re asleep. And Cadence is the undisputed empress of her own city-state, and the Princess of Love. Everypony loves love!
“But Princess Twilight Sparkle? Nope! She’s not immortal! She’s the Princess of Books! Send her another first edition. That’ll shut her up. Besides, she’s just the princess of the tiny backwoods hamlet of Ponyville. A jumped up little unicorn who lives in a magic crystal tree-castle-thing and still not important enough to get a feathering taxi in Manehatten!” She rounded on Rainbow. “So pardon me if I don’t feel just awful for using what little influence I’m granted by the worthless piece of gilded tin resting on my noggin to cast my friends a few pearls before the swine get them all!
“You girls saved the day too. Where’s your crown? Where’s your reward? So I ask you, is it wrong to slip in an apple subsidy, or a line item to open another nature preserve into next year’s budget? Or imply that giving a certain designer a prominent place in your upcoming fashion show might be considered a favor to the Crown? Tell me, is it?!”
She waited a moment, and when she was sure Twilight was done, Rainbow marched forward and slapped the princess across the cheek.
“Ow!” Twilight whined, rubbing the spot. “Rainbow Dash!”
“Sorry, Twilight, but you were going a bit crazy there.”
“All right, maybe I deserved that.”
“Oi!”
Both mares turned to see Peanut and Brittle rush over.
“The Cap’n just slugged the Princess!” said Peanut as they skidded to a stop.
Brittle looked excited for some action and lowered himself to attack position. “You want we should take her in, Your Highness?”
“No no. It’s fine.” Twilight said, waving them away.
Both guards looked crestfallen. “You sure?” asked Peanut. “Pretty serious crime hitting a princess. Treasonous, sort of thing. We could have her flogged.”
“Absolutely not!”
“You're quite sure?” he wheedled. “Not even a light flogging? Been a long time since we had one o’ thoses.”
Twilight stared at the guard incredulously. “There hasn’t been a legal flogging in hundreds of years!”
“Like I said, been a long time, sorta thing,” Peanut reiterated.
Twilight and Rainbow both sighed and shared a look, small smiles forming on their lips. They both commanded crazy ponies.
Cloud Kicker sneezed. “Dust, are your ears burning?”
Lightning Dust peeked out of the broom closet and checked the hallway in both directions before giving the coast is clear. “Shut up and run, CK!”
Rainbow left Twilight’s office with a lot on her mind. The grimace parked on her face guaranteed everypony gave her a wide berth. All she needed was a mini storm cloud trailing her around to complete the look.
Eight weeks.
Eight weeks! How was she going to whip everypony into shape that fast, and deal with Twilight’s projects at the sametime. She didn’t have anything against the batpony and griffon personally. She just didn’t appreciate her Wonderbolts being used as a petri dish for one of Twilight’s social experiments.
Rainbow Dash stopped and let out a heavy sigh. After glancing around to make sure nopony was nearby, she rested her forehead against the surface of the closest wall. The granite felt cool even on this, a warm spring day. The truth was, despite what she’d told Twilight, despite the strong front, that little nagging voice in the back of her mind had reawoken with a vengeance.
Told you so.
She slapped herself.
Fraud.
She loathed that voice.
Told you, you didn’t earn it.
Why did self-doubt have to sound so smug, so gleeful at being right? But what choice did she have? She couldn’t quit. Twilight was right. It wasn’t all about Rainbow Dash. Whatever she did now was going to affect a lot of ponies.
No! Dash bounced lightly on her hooves and threw a few punches at her shadow to get her blood flowing. She needed to get it together and think. And Rainbow did her best thinking when moving.
Fact: she had two flyers with serious issues. A problem, but it meant she still had four cadets free of any issues. Alula and Rumble were solid flyers from what she remembered, and Scootaloo was her ace in the hole. She knew with absolute certainty Scootaloo could master even the most difficult stunts Dash threw her way.
Rainbow was so wrapped up in her thought that she rounded a corner only to collide with a wall.
Which was odd. She didn’t recall this particular hallway ending in a dead-end. She was even more surprised when a giant hoof, woolly and unshorn, manhandled her back to her feet, and the same wall spoke in a voice perfectly suited to a hard chunk of gravel.
“You should watch your step, Comrade Captain.”
It took Dash a moment to blink away the stars and give the...mare?—she was pretty sure the earth pony looming over her was a mare. Hugemongous was the word Twilight would've used. Rainbow Dash lacked Twilight's vast stockpile of ten-bit words, however, so her first thought was simply: “Holy moly, you’re a freakin' gianorumous pony!”
Titling her neck upwards, Dash was confronted by a mare—she’d settled for her best guess—about two ponies high and three wide, wrapped in a heavy olive-green military jacket trimmed in red.
Dash’s second thought was if earth pony had ice in her veins. She couldn’t think of any other reason why, while it was smack dab in the middle of spring, there wasn’t a single bead of sweat visible under her peaked cap. And obviously she’d been spending far too much time around Cloud Kicker because her third thought was ‘look at the size of those shoes.’
A draft pony she guessed, judging by sout frame and pillar-like legs, one of the many subtypes of earth ponies—once again, a nugget from one of Twilight’s trivia nights bubbled to the surface. The closest frame of reference which came to mind was Bulk Bicep’s mom, but judging by the glacial glare directed her way, she wasn’t about to be invited home for fresh baked cookies, not unless those cookies had rusty nails in place of chocolate chips.
From the thick accent, Dash pegged her as hailing from Stalliongrad, an industrial city located in the northwest part of Equestria. A cold, grey, depressing place lived in by cold, grey, depressing ponies who endured the bleak winters with equally bleak attitudes.
A place with such a depressing reputation, works by its authors were among the few pieces of literature Twilight actually recommended ponies against reading. Pinkie Pie had made the mistake of checking one out once.
Her hair had remained straight for an entire week and that was after reading a comedy.
“Captain Iron Curtain, I presume,” Dash said, finally recognizing the new head of the Royal Guard. She kept her voice cool.
“My son, Comrade Captain,” Iron Curtain rumbled. And, in Rainbow’s mind, ‘rumbled’ was the only word that fit. ‘Talk’ had taken one listen and run away to hide under the bed. “My son, Straight Arrow. We discuss, yes?”
Dash raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t given the Guard transfer much thought. His record, from what she remembered, was solid. Come to think of it, she had a hard time believing Iron Curtain was his mother. The stallion had a sleek muscular body to him, sharing more in common with a ballet dancer rather than the heavily muscled behemoth standing in front of her. “I didn’t know he was yours.” Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re here asking for special treatment, then forget get it. Straight Arrow has to pass my standards the same as every cadet.”
The Guard captain’s head tilted to one side, giving Dash a better view of a wicked scar which ran down the left side of her face and over one eye. She released a deep-throated laugh. “You misunderstand, Comrade Captain,” she said. “No special treatment. I want you to kick him out.”
“Err… Say what now?”
A massive hoof easily the size of a bowling ball came to encompass Rainbow’s shoulder, the long hairs of her fetlocks enveloping it completely.
“Simple, Captain. Straight Arrow, his father was Royal Guard. Like his father before him, and his father before that.” The earth pony released a heavy snort. Rainbow flinched as a burst of sour scented vapor hit her nostrils. “My son belongs with us, Comrade Captain. Not your Wonderbolts. We are soldiers, not performers. You will delivery him, da?”
Rainbow coughed. “No chance, Captain.” She finally succeeded in wiggling out from under the other captain’s hoof. “For whatever reason, Straight Arrow signed up to be a Wonderbolt. If he wants to leave on his own, that’s fine. But I’m not gonna to drop him for some sort of family tradition. No matter who his mom is.”
Iron Curtain’s expression hardened into a deep scowl, but Rainbow meet it with a fierce glare of her own, standing her ground while her mind could not help but think about the Royal Guard’s deep chest, which, she guessed, was fully capable of snapping her lighter frame in half like a dry twig on a hot day.
Not expected was another hearty laugh followed by a loud slap to her withers, which sent Dash careening head first to the floor. “You have fire, Comrade Captain. Ho ho, this is good. You shall need it, yes?” Once again, Dash found herself roughly grabbed by the nape of her neck and roughly hauled upright. “I make you deal, yes? You give me back my son, and I give my word not to take your reserve base. Is good deal, yes?” Rainbow suddenly found herself snout to snout with the much larger mare, legs dangling off the floor. Up-close, the distinct scents of snow, soot, and vodka became pronounced, along with how outclassed she truly was. Iron Curtain outweighed Dash three times over. All of it solid muscle. “If not, then I promise you this, Comrade Captain. My vas pokhoronim. We will bury you.”
With that, Rainbow found herself unceremoniously dropped on the hard marble tile as she watched the other captain disappear around the corner.
After rubbing her sore bottom, Dash had returned to Twilight’s office and pumped the Princess for as much information on the new captain as possible.
According to Twilight, the invasion of Canterlot by the changelings had shaken up many in the nobility, and they’d placed the blame squarely on Shining Armor’s leadership, calling the Royal Guard a soft and coddled institution.
Enter Iron Curtain. Her leadership was as harsh and cold as the city from which she hailed. A new, more brutal training regime was introduced. Recruits were sent to march in the Appaloosan desert alongside the buffalo, and pull sleds laden with boulders along the frigid outskirts of the Crystal Empire.
Rumor was that the increased emphasis on close combat—both barehoofed and armed—had seen a marked jump in the number visits to the infirmary. Anypony who didn’t measure up was summarily dismissed. Iron Curtain did not suffer the weak and had reputation a for crushing any officials foolish enough to get in her way.
Rainbow sighed. Things were getting more and more complicated. She longed for the days when her biggest worry was bucking clouds. Clouds were so much simpler.
The air in the Royal Garden was tinged with honeysuckle and pleasant birdsong. Neither did anything to lift her mood as she completed another circuit around a fountain sculpted to look like the Royal Pony Sisters. Patience was something she’d learned over the years, but hints of her younger, more impatient self still surfaced sometimes.
She checked her watch for what must have been the sixth time since she’d arrived. She’d been waiting at the agreed meeting spot for hours. Okay, it was more like ten minutes, but it felt like hours. Bottom line: they were late. With everything that had happened today, the last thing Rainbow was in the mood for was wasting time waiting for Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
Just as she was going to give up and takeoff solo, her ears perked at the crunch of gravel and the familiar sounds of an argument. ‘Way to watch my back! Do you know how hard it is to get granola out this mane? I thought us flyers were supposed to stick together.’ ‘I took a danish to the face for you! Besides, I think I still have strawberry seeds in my unmentionables.’ ‘I for one stand behind my uniform.’ ‘Yeah, when you’re not actively disgracing it! And you still smell like blueberries.’ ‘That sucks. I can’t stand blueberries.’
As her subordinates rounded a tall hedge, Dash marched up to them intent on chewing them out. “What took you guys so…” She stalled. Both pegasi appeared as if they’d returned from a warzone. A tasty, tasty warzone set somewhere in the nomare's land between East Breakfasta and West Brunchia. With a side of haybacon.
“What the hay happened to you guys? CK, why is there syrup in your mane?”
“No prob, you can lick it off,” said Cloud Kicker.
“And are those scrambled eggs all over your jacket, Dust?”
“Can we go?” Lightning Dust hastily scrubbed at the stain while glancing around. “We need to leave, like right now.”
“Yeah, I'm with LD,” Cloud Kicker concurred as they grabbed their leader, one under each forearm.
Rainbow twisted away as they tried to drag her off. “Whoa, hold up. You two are agreeing on something? Something doesn’t smell right here.”
Cloud Kicker kept shooting fugitive glances back down the path. “Well, it certainly has nothing to do with the spontaneous and totally, totally accidental fight which occurred in the cafeteria between a couple of brain-dead guards and some other innocent ponies. Who, and let me emphasize this, were definitely not us.”
“Who, if I might add, were totally winning the fight until they had to leave,” Dust added. “So can we go now?”
“Sure, I guess—” Rainbow’s ears perked up. All heads turned back down the path. “Do you guys hear yelling?” Her lieutenants looked at each other and nodded. They were already dots in the sky by the time Rainbow turned back around, so she found herself alone when a company of a thoroughly pissed off guards covered in bits of fresh fruit surrounded her, all brandishing rather pointy spears towards her chest.
At their lead appeared to be a red-faced sergeant, an entire pancake breakfast decorating his uniform and a kiwi impaled on his horn.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Rainbow Dash sighed for the umpteenth time today and said the first thing to pop into her head.
“Did you know you’ve got a kiwi stuck on your horn?”