The typical formation of a new squad of the Guard would involve either training or a formal meeting; this was no typical formation, and it was not for a new squad of the Guard, so Luna, Shining Armour, and Paper Weight were unburdened by precedent. All of the gathered guardponies-to-be were trained as soldiers to greater or lesser extents, and all of them had some manner of expertise beyond that basic training.
While Icewine and Zorada had been in Canterlot already, and Hot Streak had actually been fired from her job the day that her summons had arrived, leaving her free to catch the next train into the capitol, it had taken some time for the other two to arrive. Sticky Wings had actually been in gaol, and Sharp Salute... Luna wasn't entirely clear on what had been going on with Sharp Salute. Someone had mentioned something about a siege situation, but the old soldier was retired, and certainly not doing mercenary work. How serious could it possibly have been?(7)
Thus, the ponies had arrived separately, and been briefed separately. Luna and Shining Armour had both wanted an opportunity to interview the ponies, to ensure that their eccentricities wouldn't pose too great a risk. The results had been mixed; Shining Armour had been more or less able to guarantee that in a more formal guard regiment, the candidates would have had mediocre success at best; for the task that they were genuinely being set to, Luna was convinced that she had made the right choices. Either way, they only had to hold out until the end of the fiscal year.
The candidates, for their part, had been variably enthusiastic about the task being set before them, but mostly pleasant and positive. Sticky Wings had been a trifle too defensive, frequently re-iterating her efforts to become a better pony. Icewine had begun staid and academic, but had turned out to be an expert at earthpony-style brawling, an artifact of having three younger siblings that had all been bigger than him. Hot Streak had actually impressed Luna with the raw power that she could conjure – the Princess of the Night had some inklings as to what to do to improve the unicorn's control. Sharp Salute had been coarse and gruff, but Shining Armour had approved of his discipline, and for his years, the earth pony had been in remarkably good shape. Zorada had been terse but polite, asking a few intelligent and relevant questions.
To allow the formative squad an opportunity to meet and greet, a small affair had been arranged; somewhere between a formal briefing and a cocktail party, with, Luna hoped, the best parts of each. It had even worked fairly well; for all that the ponies gathered were variably sociable, they all had begun with some common factor about which they could speak, and a not-unreasonable amount of free liquor helped to loosen tongues and allow the various ponies to speak slightly more freely.
At present, although Luna was slightly too distant to make out the exact words, Sharp Salute appeared to be sharing a story with the rest of the recruits. They were alternating smiling – occasionally laughing – and favouring Sharp Salute with looks of bemused horror, and the moon princess found herself wondering as to the contents of the anecdote. She moved slightly closer, the better to hear.
“And when they came to, the castle was on fire, half of the artefacts in the Museum of Natural History had exploded, and every piece of food in the royal kitchen that began with the letter 'L' had mysteriously vanished without a trace.” Sharp Salute finished with a bit of showman's flourish. “The Guard never did find out all of the details, but some of the boffins over at the Royal College said they figured it out, and ever since then, it's been illegal to make Clover the Clever's thirteenth formulation for cosmically good macaroni and cheese.”
This, Luna reflected, was the peril of eavesdropping. Not that you would hear things you hadn't wanted to – but rather, that you would hear only half of a story, and it would be socially awkward to ask how it had begun.
“I had wondered about that.” Icewine said thoughtfully. “It was already on the forbidden list when I was in Celestia's School, but they never did say why.” He shrugged. “I didn't even know you could do that with an extradimensional entity.”
Zorada, sipping her own drink – something that the alchemist had whipped up with a few minutes unsupervised access to the bar, and which was smoking lightly – laughed gently. “It is true, that the perils of magical cooking can have unexpected consequence. There are some memories I have of my own training that fairly accentuate the point.”
Sticky Wings tilted her head at Zorada. “Actually, regarding that... do you mind if I ask a personal question?”
The zebra shrugged assent. “I cannot guarantee a fruitful answer, but you are free to ask.”
“Well...” Sticky seemed to have second thoughts about the question, but continued anyway. “I've read a number of books about Zebrani culture, and at least a few adventure narratives with zebra main characters. And they all...” She decided to stop beating around the bush. “Why don't you rhyme when you speak?”
“Lazy writing.” Zorada gave a self-effacing smile.
Sticky blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“The books that you have read – I have likely read a number of them myself.” Zorada took a sip of her drink, looking unoffended and mostly at ease – it was not, after all, the first time that she had been asked the question. “It is true that the Zebrani language has a natural rhyming cadence, as a result of the way that it handles subject-verb agreement, and that there are zebra nationals who have a practised enough mastery of the Equestrian tongue to rhyme their speech regardless of the fact that Equestrian does not have the same structure. They will often do this as a way of keeping connected to their roots, and writers who wish to emphasize the distinction between our cultures use this language difference to demonstrate it. However, while I am fluent in your tongue, I am not a native speaker, nor so practised that I can easily form my thoughts into rhyming couplets.”
Hot Streak nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes sense. I took a couple of years worth of Gryphaan lessons, but I'm not exactly able to write poetry in it.”
Zorada smiled. “Besides, many of the concepts that I have to convey in the course of my work are... difficult to set to a rhyme scheme. It is difficult to make the meter work for 'the amount of water hemlock that you have put into this face cream could kill three ponies and give a fourth organ troubles for the rest of their not-overlong life.”
This caused a slight lull in conversation. Luna decided to move in to fill it. It was refreshing to be the solution to an awkward moment, rather than the origin. “I am sure, Doctor Zorada, that we all appreciate your efforts.” Luna certainly did. The practice of adding potentially lethal ingredients to beauty products was hardly new – before the Nightmare Moon incident, there had been a pigment in mane-dyes that added a scintillating effervescence and also cut an average of twelve years off of the lifespan of a regular user.(8) The practice had modernized, but hardly gone extinct. “If I may interrupt the festivities a moment, now that you have been somewhat informally introduced, I wished to speak on the subject at hand – the task to which I intend to set this group.”
The pronouncement affected different ponies in different ways. Sharp Salute stood at a wary attention, the older pony graying at the temples but by no means deficient in the contents between them; he had been earmarked for a leadership position, and given a rough briefing, but was curious as to the contents of the more formal discussion. Icewine and Zorada were both curious, but for their own reasons affected expressions of studied bemusement – it never did to wear one's expression fully upon one's sleeve. Hot Streak was genuinely interested, but hadn't gone through the academic rigours that had trained the two scholars to guard their curiosity; she looked expectantly up at Luna. Sticky Wings was similar in interest, but there was an undercurrent of dread; formal announcements almost never seemed to end up going her way, and her curiosity was intermingled with an unspoken dread that had become so familiar as to be unnoticed.
Luna had considered sugar-coating a little bit – 'you're the best of what was available' did not tend to be the ego boost that one desired on the first day of the job – but had decided against it. Whether or not they were being seconded to the guarding of Equestria, the ponies gathered before her were being inducted into her personal guard, and lies, even well intended, did not become such a relationship well. The result of her labours – a speech that didn't fib, but also wasn't horrendously depressing – had been managed only with great effort and not a few late mornings with Paper Weight.
“I do not believe,” she began, “that it will come as any shock to anyone here that an alicorn princess of Equestria really doesn't need bodyguards. When, in ancient times, my sister and I went to war against outside threats, mountains were levelled and seas were boiled. If I have misled anyone with the belief that I am looking for any form of personal defense, you have my apologies. Neither have we any real need for an additional mundane constabulary. The Royal Guard serves well for Canterlot, as well some of you know, and the towns and cities outside of the capitol have their own policing forces. Nevertheless, you are officially members of my Lunar Guard, and it behoves me to welcome you as such. Welcome, to all of you.”
So far, so good. The assembled ponies looked variably flattered and thoughtful, and it occurred to Luna that it may indeed have been some time since any mortal pony had seen an alicorn cut loose with magic – the handful that had been in Ponyville for the Tirek incident notwithstanding. Probably best to keep it so.
“That being said,” Luna continued, “neither my sister nor I have any interest in being blunt instruments, and we can only attempt to contain those threats of which we are aware. The half-dozen or so near disasters that have occurred over the last year or so were as bad as they were because they were allowed to fester – or because safeguards that were meant to prevent such incidents either failed or were unaccountably absent. The former could have happened either through ignorance or negligence – I am told that few ponies had even heard of changelings outside of bedtime stories, prior to their invasion of Canterlot. The latter...” She let the pregnant pause hang, morning sick, in the air a moment, before resolving it. “It is the belief of myself and a few others that there is active malfeasance in Equestria, and that foreign or domestic powers are ultimately behind many of the problems we are now facing.”
She paused for effect, and was somewhat surprised by the lack of shock on most of the faces before her. Some thoughtfulness, perhaps – as if a question, long standing in the backs of some minds, had finally been resolved to the personal satisfaction of Icewine and Sharp Salute. Zorada actually looked nonplussed, but had a habit of not showing her emotions for general consumption, and Luna wasn't sure that she wasn't just misreading the enigmatic zebra's face. Sticky Wings had the expression of someone who had been bracing for one piece of bad news and had instead received a different one – Luna supposed that was the possible upside to what the pegasus' psych report had called 'a groundbreakingly pessimistic outlook'.
There was nothing to do but to move forward. “The service that you are being called upon is to uncover these cabals and conspiracies before they bear the fruit that is threatening our nation. If this program is successful, it will be expanded, with greater numbers and more extensive resources. If it is not...” Luna paused, as if considering, purely for effect – the elements of rhetoric had not greatly changed in a thousand years, simply the details. “If not, then there is little harm in trying.” A fond smile, to her little ponies. “Are there any questions?”
Perhaps surprisingly, it was one of Sticky's hooves that shot into the air. Luna considered telling the pegasus that hoof-raising was not required, but then, it kept everyone from talking at once, and it was polite. “Yes, Miss Wings?”
“Not that I'm trying to put us all out of work or anything, your highness, but aren't a few short blasts of weaponized friendship usually the ticket when it comes to this sort of problem?” Sticky didn't seem to be happy to be asking the question, but there was approval in the eyes of Icewine – a school teacher would appreciate that line of inquisition.
Luna smiled. “That certainly has worked on many of the recent problems. That said, we are hoping to try to forestall these problems entirely, and possibly even to treat the underlying problem, rather than the symptoms. Anything else?”
Sharp Salute asked about organization structure, which necessitated the bringing of charts. The members of the Night Watch – Luna had decided to revive an old title, from her previous reign – would be of approximately equal rank, but specific duties would be assigned to specific ponies based on experience and merit. Luna would be the de facto commander, but as her duties as a princess would often preclude a hooves on approach, Sharp Salute would serve as a de jure leader, and handle the day-to-day operations. Icewine and Zorada would serve as analysts and researchers, with Icewine doing double duty on enforcement with Hot Steak, who was also the team nurse. Sticky Wings, in addition to areal reconnaissance, would serve as the team's quartermaster.
There was not precisely friction, but a certain amount of sizing up, as the ponies reassessed one another from a professional rather than social standpoint. Sharp Salute's military record was above reproach, but a scuffle nearly broke out when Hot Streak asked if the greying pony might be a bit old for this sort of thing. Icewine served as the voice of reason, until Sticky Wings mentioned that he might be a little small to act in an enforcement role, leading to a fully realized scuffle. Luna was briefly impressed with the way that the diminutive unicorn had managed to tackle the flying pegasus out of the air from a standing start, and made a brief mental note to ask Icewine if he might be willing to teach some of those Earth Pony style martial arts moves to the rest of the team.
They weren't perfect, but they were a lot better than she had feared. Rather than a fractured mob, they were... well, in all truth, they were a mob, but there was a chemistry to them that Luna could see working. It had been one thing to pull a hoof full of names from a stack of dossiers, and to say that she felt there might be something to them. Watching Zorada and Hot Streak prise Icewine off of Sticky, Luna could actually see that there was something. Certainly not harmony – but what were the odds that a few random ponies would have that level of connection the first time they met? Perhaps with time, they might grow into that, but for now, not harmony, but a joyful noise.
A noise of family.
* * *
Paper Weight, Shining Armour, and Luna were sitting in Pony Joe's Doughnut Shop, enjoying a coffee and doughnut each. Shining Armour was holding a cold compress to his eye, which would not quite forestall a shiner that was forming beneath it, the wages of an attempt to break up the all-out brawl that had broken out amongst the recruits. Seeing, if not recognizing, an outsider attempting to pull them apart, the team had unexpectedly closed ranks against the outside invader. An errant hoof to the eye had been the only scrape that a quick and liberally applied healing spell hadn't been able to mend almost instantaneously, and Luna, when she had finished tallying up the score, had pulled everyone apart.(9)
“To paraphrase Duke Wellington Boots,” Shining began, “I don't know what they're going to do to the enemy, but that mob of yours sure scares the crap out of me.” His hoof moved up to touch his eye, but hard won experience dropped it again. Rubbing it would not help.
Luna smiled broadly. “I know! Is it not wonderful?” Her doughnut was daintily nibbled, her coffee greedily glugged.
Shining arched an eyebrow, then winced. “I might quibble about your definition of wonderful.” It hadn't been 'striking a superior officer', since he was officially retired from the guard and wasn't in their chain of command. Barring a desire for an international incident, it had been filed under 'the sort of accident that happens sometimes, and don't do it again'. No particularly hard feelings, although it did lead Shining to wonder if he was losing his edge a little bit. Roughhousing amongst the guard was a pretty old tradition, and his favourite part of participating had always been winning.
Luna shrugged. “They are still a little rough around the edges.” That particular choice of words had been suggested by Paper Weight on the walk over, and Luna had adopted it with speed that would have made the fastest of the Wonderbolts blush. “But once the fires were put out, they all seemed quite enthusiastic about the challenges that lay ahead, and did you see the way that they moved to defend one another once the threat became external?”
“I confess,” deadpanned Shining Armour, “the Day Guard never destroyed a conference room that quickly.” A pause. “The Hearths Warming party doesn't count. No matter what the papers said.”
Luna grinned hugely. “So, what you're saying is, my personal guard is much more interesting than Celestia's? How delightful.” She mused for a moment. “I wonder if there is an appropriate greeting card to send to her, to emphasize this point? Something tasteful.” She turned to her secretary. “If you find time in the next few days, Paper Weight, could you look into it?”
“Of course, your highness.”
Luna nodded. “Right then. Tonight, we shall let them sleep it off. Tomorrow, we put them to work. The presentation of the levy is scheduled for the first of next month. I know that it may take some fine tuning, and they may or may not be equal to the challenge, but I find myself cautiously optimistic. Once we get some little victories, we can move to big victories, and once we get some big victories...” She savaged the last doughnut in the box, washing it down with the balance of her coffee. “There will be no stopping us!”
* * *
“Soon, there shall be no stopping us!” Somewhat more ominously, but almost simultaneous to Luna's declaration, came the voice of a hooded pony, to a large but intimate group of similarly hooded ponies. Their garb, coupled with the flickering candles, and generally 'occult' decor(10) might lead one to believe that this was either the meeting of a dark cabal, or at least a college fraternity that took itself way too seriously. This is shameful stereotyping. For all that you might know, gentle reader, it could have been unseasonably chilly in the dark room, prompting a long, warm, hooded cloak. The decor might be left over from Nightmare Night. Do you see what happens when you snap to judgement?
“Yes, my brother! The Order of the Golden Scoop shall return the monsters of old, and our rise to power shall be unchallenged!” Then again, some snap judgements are occasionally accurate.
The first pony to speak sneered. “Those fools in the Castle think that their governance keeps ponies from falling to chaos? Let them see how quickly their illusions vanish when they are tried sorely by our machinations.”
“All hail the Golden Scoop!”
7: The exclusion of the siege of Happy Pastures from the history books would, in a fair world, have been viewed as a disgrace; good ponies, who had their entire lives ahead of them, had received thorough pastry-related drubbings, and could thereafter never again walk past a dessert table without pause.
8: The origin of the phrase 'drop dead gorgeous'. Luna had always admired the expression for its cold-blooded dedication to its play on words, the sort of pun that knifed you in the stomach several times before tittering and capering off.
9: The more curiously minded reader may wonder how the brawl had tallied up. Honourable mention had been given to Zorada, who had kept a level head, and had only joined the fight due to proximity. MVP had been awarded to Hot Streak, for raw property damage and managing to avoid actually setting anyone on fire. Shining Armour had been edged out for outright loss by the boardroom, which took 15605 bits worth of damage in a little under seven minutes. This, after much persuading, Paper Weight had charged to Princess Luna's entertainment fund, since it was broadly accurate.
10: Dribbly candles and rocks carved into vague skull-shapes, a bunch of intricate chalk markings on the floor, and wall-hangings dangerously close to the candles. Most competent unicorn magi could have told those gathered that almost none of this was necessary, and that it might constitute a fire hazard, or at least a tripping one.