Courts of The Magi

by Airstream


Smacht

Vino sighed as he straightened out the collar of his uniform, checked himself in the mirror on the wall once more, and before he could stop himself, he pushed the door to the meeting room open, showing a veneer of confidence he certainly did not feel.

Sitting at the table were four other ponies and a Gryphon, each of whom looked up as he entered, their conversation momentarily forgotten.

“Ah,” said the pony at the head of the table said, rising in greeting. “Vino, good to see you.”

“Major,” Vino said, inclining his head respectfully to the older pony. “I apologize for my lateness, everypony else seems to have arrived.”

The major, a Pegasus built rather like a brick wall, beamed at him. “Quite alright, lad, quite alright. We hadn’t started yet, just getting acquainted.” He indicated the other four ponies. “You’re familiar with the other selectees, of course?”

Vino nodded. “Afi and Ahan and I have been getting acquainted the past few days.”

The bearded unicorn grinned, shaking a fiery lock of his mane out of his eyes. He’d clearly decided this would be a relaxed meeting, his customary braids were hanging loose. “It’s been two weeks and he’s still a stick in the mud,” he said to the major.

Ahan nodded. “He’s nervous.”

Vino glared. He knew it was useless to hide how he felt from a Gryphon, they were notoriously good at reading ponies. That didn’t mean Ahan had to hang him out to dry. “I’m new to command,” he said to the major. “Captain Roughshod recommended I try for this position, and then Lady Serale requested I tryout as well. But I’ve led ponies before, back during my squireship.”

“A knight, then,” the major said cheerfully. “Your kind are a dying breed, Sir Vino. We’ve got another pony here who’s new to command, though she’s had her knighthood for a while, though we haven’t found her paperwork.”

At this, the pony at the other end of the table rose. Vino once again couldn’t help but stare. Her mane, though still lank, was drawn back in a simple tail, exposing the curve of her neck, which bore the mark of several scars. These paled in comparison to the jagged white line of tissue that traveled the length of her face, crossing over an eye, a shining green orb with a slitted red pupil, and through her lip, giving her a permanent sneer. Her expression otherwise was quite inscrutable as she offered him a hoof, which he took. Vino stifled a gasp at her grip as she shook his hoof firmly. “Kore,” she said. “A pleasure.”

Vino wasn’t so sure she thought it a pleasure. She looked uncomfortable in the uniform she wore, though it fit her perfectly. He realized that she had never worn it before, wasn’t really a member of the Guard or Army or any other branch.

“Kore is a free champion of the Crown,” the major explained. “It’s a hereditable title. She assists the forces of the Evening Kingdom in difficult operations. Barring Afi, perhaps, she likely has the most combat experience of any of us. She’s also a…what was it again?”

“Cambia”, she growled. “From my father.” And that appeared to be all she wished to say about the matter.

“Right,” the major said brightly. “And the final member of the group, and the highest ranking among you, is…”

“Captain Fidelis,” the pony at the end of the table interjected smoothly, rising to greet Vino. The front of his desk jacket was heavily decorated, and Vino noticed the knight’s pins on his shoulders were wreathed in laurels, marking him as a member of the Royal Cavaliers, Lady Everstar’s personal guard. The black of his mane was shot through with gray, and the light blue of his coat was well-groomed, as impeccable as the rest of his attire. To the average eye, he would appear to be just another desk officer, but the ribbons on his breast told a different story. Sir Fidelis had been on nearly every major campaign of the last decade and a half, and Vino could see three Valor Stars, twins to his own, represented there.

“It’s good to see another knight,” he said with a smile, his voice clipped and professional, the mark of a true career officer. “Even if you’re a bit green. I understood you worked with Sir Ironside. He was my teacher, too.”

Vino took the proffered hoof, shaking it briskly. “I take it you’ll be the one in charge of Lady Serale’s Guard?”

“I will,” Fidelis said gravely. “Lady Serale gives us the orders, of course, and Magus Libra will be our magical liaison, but the day to day responsibilities fall to me. We were just discussing the disposition of troops.” He gestured to the table. “Please, have a seat.”

Vino did, as did the rest of the captains, as well as the major. Sir Fidelis cleared his throat. “As of this moment, you are ranking officers in the Evening Guard, assigned to Lady Serale as a protective detail. Because of the unique nature of this assignment, you have been removed from the normal chain of command. You do not take orders from other officers of the Guard or the regular Army, Rangers, Cavaliers, Engineers, Navy, and so on. You report directly to me, then Magus Libra, then Lady Serale, going up the chain of command.”

He slid a dossier to Vino, who noticed that the rest of the captains had already opened and studied theirs. He mentally kicked himself for being late.

“Also, you have been assigned a magical practitioner to assist in the combating of magical threats. You are all expected to work with these individuals, folding them into your respective platoons. We are at less than company strength, which means that we cannot afford to specialize our soldiers. You must ensure they are able to operate a large array of weaponry and take on a number of duties, including scouting and engineering as well as fighting. I have been assured by the Magus that the soldiers we have been given will be up to the task.”

“They’d better be,” Afi muttered dejectedly. “Even we Rangers weren’t meant to be this self-sufficient.”

“We’ll be operating in foreign and potentially hostile territory,” Sir Fidelis said. “Self-sufficiency is the least of our worries.”

“I can’t do much with ten ponies,” Kore said, her voice troubled. “How do you expect us to get them trained into a cohesive whole by the time we leave?”

“Focus on getting them to work together,” Fidelis replied. “They’re familiar enough with group exercises to at least form a working platoon. We can get them trained up on the specialist skills they need as we go.”

He pulled out another sheet of paper from the folder in front of him. “I have the itinerary for Lady Serale,” he said. “She’ll be leaving on a train to Ponyville in one week’s time, where she’ll transfer to a line headed to Dawndale, and her aunt’s Court. This is the most likely spot for an attack, which means that we’ll need to be at least functional in a week’s time.”

There was a murmur from the other captains, and Vino felt his heart sink. A week was barely enough time to decide how to train his new Guards, let alone bring them up to speed.

“I know it sounds like a tall order,” Fidelis said, “But you all have been chosen for more than your ability to fight. Lady Serale picked ponies with the potential to be excellent leaders to receive invitations to the tournament, and we’ve all clearly proven our abilities on the battlefield already. We’ll meet here around noon daily to give progress reports and discuss courses of action. That gives you mornings to exercise your soldiers and afternoons to drill them and bring them up to speed on their new duties.”

“What access do we have to training equipment?” Ahan asked.

“Just pass your needs along to me,” the major said, his wings ruffling a bit as he spoke, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ve got carte blanche from logistics to ensure you’re ready to go by the time Lady Serale leaves.”

“For now, I suggest you get acquainted with your platoons,” Sir Fidelis said. “Sir Vino, please stay behind, I need to have a word with you. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Vino watched the rest of the captains file out, opening the folder in front of him as he did so. Inside were sheets of paper, each neatly typed, providing names, ranks, service histories, everything he would need to get a better understanding of what his platoon should be capable of.

“They’ve got a good amount of experience between them,” Sir Fidelis said. “And they’ll need it, frankly. Would you care for a drink?”

Vino looked up from the folder in front of him. “No,” he said, “Thank you. I don’t drink this early in the day.”

Sir Fidelis smiled at him. “A sound policy,” he said. “At least you’ve got common sense.” He sat down directly across the table from Vino, looking him in the eye. “Tell me,” he said curiously, “Why do you think Lady Serale picked you for this assignment?”

Vino thought for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. “For a while, I thought she might need a confidant, but she has that in Libra. There are certainly other ponies in the Guard with more experience than me. There are better fighters, too. Really, I can’t think of why she wants me in her personal Guard.”

Fidelis nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to know what I think?” he asked. “I think she wanted somepony younger to be one of her captains. You look young enough to be one of her peers. Did you know her growing up?”

“As well as anypony could, I suppose,” Vino replied. “She wasn’t exactly sociable.”

Sir Fidelis was silent for a moment, one hoof absently playing with the pen on the table in front of him. “There is,” he said suddenly, “A tradition in the Guard for every senior staff officer to have with them a junior officer, usually a first lieutenant or captain, one with some experience, but not too much. They aren’t there as an aide de camp. Their job is to sit in on meetings and provide input, fresh perspective for old soldiers to help them catch things they miss.”

“None of the other nations do anything like this,” Sir Fidelis said. “And I think that’s one of the reasons our officer corps is so much stronger and reactive than theirs. I’ve got sixteen years of service, Vino. Afi has about thirty, and Ahan is a Gryphon. He’s probably as old as the Kingdom, and raised to believe in tradition above almost everything else. Kore’s a Cambia, and has been a champion for nearly thirty years. She’s no officer, but she’s old enough to be a general, if she’d chosen to put on a uniform instead of picking up a mace.”

“You’re young,” Sir Fidelis said. “In my eyes, probably too young, but you’ve made some good choices and you show promise. This Guard isn’t meant to be another pony show. We’re going to be defending Lady Serale, and you and I both know she’s got some powerful things after her. If this is going to work, we’ll need new ideas. You’ll find that most of the ponies in your folder have a history of not fitting well with their old platoons.”

Vino hadn’t been able to read that far, but he scanned the pages in front of him, and his eyes grew wide. “Every pony under my command has a list of reprimands long enough to end their career,” he said.

“Those reprimands are largely for insubordination and failure to obey regulations,” Fidelis said. “Our ponies have the same issues. Lady Serale handed us a powder keg and wants us to turn it into a shining example of soldiery. I’ve worked with ponies like these, Vino. They’ll either have brilliant careers once they find their role, or they’ll be forced to resign in disgrace.”

Fidelis met his eye, his blue meeting Vino’s brown. “They’ve already been getting to know one another for the past week and a half,” he said, “I put off having this meeting so they’d work out whatever petty power struggles they’d need to get out of their systems, but that means you’ll be going into a group of ponies who are both unified and insubordinate. Your mage arrives later this afternoon, as well. From one knight to another, I can tell you this. Sir Ironside knew how to teach, and I know you remember how he was able to keep discipline. If you follow his example, you can’t go far wrong.”

Vino took a deep breath and closed his folder. “Okay,” he said. “Where are they?”

Sir Fidelis smiled. “Your platoon is 4th Rifles,” he said, “In the guest barracks, fourth building from the entry gate. I suggest you hurry to meet them, they’ll be wondering where you are.”


The guest barracks, generally reserved for visiting companies and the bodyguards of heads of state, were both isolated and quiet. At least, they had been a week ago. Guardsponies who were assigned to the barracks nearest the guest buildings had noticed that new residents had taken up in the long, low shacks, and were none too quiet about it. It had recently reached the point where a few of them had considered making complaints, but it went against the nature of the Guards to let poor conditions get to them. That was the Army’s purview.

Vino could hear the new Guards before he could see the buildings they were stationed in. He stopped, readjusted his uniform, checked to make sure he was loose and ready to move, and grabbed a passing Guard who was looking at the buildings with a disdainful gaze.

“Corporal,” he said, noting the two chevrons on his sleeves, “How long have those ponies been acting this way?”

The corporal, who had previously been busy with extricating himself from Vino’s grip, noted the captain’s bars and knight’s badge, and hurriedly came to attention, snapping a crisp salute. “Sir!” he exclaimed, “They’ve been going on for about a week, sir! They’re usually quiet in the mornings, but they get louder as the afternoon comes around.”

Vino snapped a salute back. “Tell the other Guards in your barracks that if you hear a peep out of those buildings after today, you’re to let Sir Fidelis or myself know via your chain of command. Clear?” The Guard nodded fervently. “Dismissed.”

Vino marched through the low arch that made up the entrance to the courtyard, which contained six long barracks, three to a side, with a bare flagpole in the middle of the yard, the only area for a good distance that was not paved. The building to his left was labeled with the number one, the building to his right was number two. Vino noticed that the fourth building seemed to be the loudest by far.

Trotting over to the building, Vino stepped over the prone form of a young Pegasus, cradling a bottle of something amber and snoring loudly. Idly, Vino noticed his hooves appeared to be shaking as he pushed open the door. He had expected something bad, but the scene that greeted him left him nearly speechless.

Empty bottles occupied several of the bunk beds, which had been pushed to one side to make room for what appeared to be a makeshift wrestling ring, in which were two ponies, an earth pony with a white mane and red coat, who was struggling mightily and losing to a pegasus mare, with a coat of deep blue and a mane that ran with streaks of orange and red. With one hoof, she held him in a headlock, while in the other, she appeared to hold a bottle of whisky, which Vino could smell from his position by the door.

Surrounding the two were six other ponies, all in various states of dress, from uniforms to civilian clothing, whooping and cheering them on, clearly inebriated and smelling like they hadn’t bathed in at least two days. Clothes were strewn about the room, the wall lockers completely disregarded, save for one unicorn who appeared to be sleeping on top of them. Vino took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and stepped into the barracks.

“What in Tartarus do you think you are doing?” he bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. The cheering stopped abruptly and every head turned to look at him, the expressions of good cheer vanishing, to be replaced by panic.

“Oh, shit,” one of the ponies muttered.

“My name,” Vino said, as he walked down the length of the barracks, “Is Vino Hedera. Sir Vino Hedera to you. I have been assigned to lead a platoon of the finest soldiers the Kingdom has to offer in the supremely important task of guarding the Lady Heir herself.”

He stopped, eyeing them critically. “I do not see fine soldiers here,” he snapped. “I don’t even see ponies that could be called soldiers here. What I see,” he said, raising his voice again, “Is a group of insubordinate, drunken, disorganized, and unprofessional pissants who somehow seem to have acquired Guard uniforms.”

“Says the knight with nothing but a single ribbon,” another pony, an earth pony with a brown coat and a yellowish mane. Vino whirled around and buried a hoof in his stomach, sending the stallion to the ground wheezing.

“If not for the fact that I have been given one week to whip you into something resembling soldiers,” Vino growled, “I would have you put in confinement for that. As it is, you’ve gone and done one better. You now have my personal attention. Your week just got a little bit worse.”

“Who’s the highest ranking enlisted in here?” he barked, stepping away from the coughing stallion. There was silence. “If somepony doesn’t speak up, things are going to get nasty. Who is the highest ranking enlisted?”

The Pegasus with the fiery mane raised her hoof. “Sir,” she said, “I am. Sergeant Fireball reporting for duty, sir.”

Vino looked her up and down. “Reporting for duty,” he repeated. “Reporting for duty drunk, out of uniform, filthy, and having just finished assaulting a soldier under your command for no apparent reason. Outstanding. Now I know who to blame for all of this.”

“It was my fault, Sir,” the earth pony on the floor groaned, rubbing his aching shoulder. “I challenged her after…”

“Does it look like I give a damn?” Vino shouted. “Speaking out of turn, out of uniform, not at the position of attention. You’re next.”

He turned back to the sergeant. “Sergeant Fireball, you have exactly three minutes to get these ponies ready and mustered out front, or you’ll be answering to the name Corporal Fireball. That includes the drunkard out front. Three minutes, in uniform.”

There was a beat of silence that lasted just a little too long. “Move!” Vino barked.


Three minutes later, ten ponies stood in two silent rows, their uniforms wrinkled and stained as they swayed uneasily, either not used to standing at attention or drunk or both. Vino walked the lines, inspecting them. From the other barracks buildings, Vino could hear similar bellowing from the other captains haranguing the occupants, though they were not outside yet.

“Not a single one of you could pass a uniform inspection,” he said. “By four o’clock tomorrow morning, I want these uniforms spotless and creased, no loose strings, decorations aligned, parade-ready. If I cannot trust you to keep your own uniforms presentable, I cannot trust you in a firing line.”

Vino undid his jacket, tossing it to the ground. “Remove your uniforms,” he said. “They are disgusting, and right now, you don’t have the right to wear them. I have removed mine because I am ashamed to be seen with you as a Guard or a knight. You have exactly sixty seconds.”

The flurry of motion would have been funny if it had come from anypony other than disciplined soldiers. Jackets, pants, boots, and hats were removed, and tossed into a pile at Vino’s hooves. Ten ponies stood shivering in the winter air as Vino inspected the pile.

“Upon our return,” he said, “You will select one pony who will wash these clothes. The rest of you will focus on reorganizing the compost heap you call a barracks, because if I come in tomorrow morning and find so much as a sock out of place, today’s exercises will seem like a picnic in the park.” He took a deep breath. “Right face!” he barked, noting that they could at least determine right and left. “Forward march!”

The march soon turned into a jog, and by the time the other four captains had gotten their ponies ready to begin for the day, the 4th Rifles were out of the courtyard, through the arch, and jogging away, Vino calling a cadence as they went.


The formation broke yet again as another member of the 4th Rifles retched, a belly full of alcohol and food splattering the trail as they ran. There were a number of these training grounds littered throughout the second tier of Starfall, but this was not the closest one to the barracks. They had ran for at least four miles, enough to pass into another section of the city, before they had turned into an abandoned training ground, puffing and panting.

They had thought they would be stopping there before beginning exercises, but Vino had kept jogging, the platoon behind him. The track was a half-mile circle, and they had been around it six times so far, jogging in formation. It had taken two laps before the vomiting began, and the ponies of the 4th Rifles were feeling miserable.

“How long is Sir Hedera going to make us run?” one of the platoon’s two unicorns asked his partner, panting.

“Until he doesn’t want to make us run, Moony,” the pony next to him said, avoiding the puddle of vomit over which the pegasus, Corporal Hopper, was currently crouching. “But if he doesn’t stop soon, we ain’t gonna make it back to barracks.”

“You see what he did to Fireball?” Private Moon asked quietly. “She don’t take shit from anypony.”

The earth pony, Corporal Pillar, nodded. “If he thinks he can just push Fireball around, he’s got another think coming.”

The platoon peeled off of the track, into the dirt field where they did other exercises, ones that weren’t jogging. Vino came to a halt, the rest of the platoon following suit.

“Five minutes!” he bellowed. “Water pump’s at the far end of the field! You have exactly five minutes to get your fill and get back here in proper lines, or we’re taking another two laps around the track!”

The platoon managed to muster a jog as they made for the water spigot, hoping to clear the awful taste of sweat and liquor and vomit from their mouths. Vino noticed, however, that one pony had stayed behind. Fireball approached him, sweat dropping from her brow, and stood at the position of attention.

“Request permission to speak, sir?” she asked.

“Granted,” Vino said.

“Sir, Private Redwood is not to blame for the match back in the barracks,” she said. “That falls on me. We were talking, things got out of hoof, and it turned into a friendly match. I could have stopped it, but I didn’t.”

Vino nodded. “Understood. Private Redwood will face non-judicial punishment for his actions. Sergeant Fireball, you have been demoted to the rank of Corporal until such time as I deem you ready to resume the rank. Find somepony who will let you borrow a shirt with corporal's chevrons for tomorrow. I suggest you get some water, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Fireball, shaken by the sudden loss of her rank, snapped a salute, and the recently-demoted Corporal flapped her wings once, soaring into the air to join her platoon for water. Vino watched her go.

Only a week, he thought. This isn’t going to be easy.