The Quiet Equestrian

by Neon Czolgosz


INTERLUDE: A Couple Of Genuine Wrestle-Boys

The teal pegasus stood in the doorway of the cloud-brick gym, unmoving as she stared at Twilight. Her lip twitched as a bead of sweat rolled down it, which she wiped away with her fetlock. The smell of old sweat and heat balm wafted out into the cool night air.

“Hey.” The pegasus spoke but did not move. Light and noise from inside moved around her, accommodating her, as if she had always been in the doorway, as much a part of the building as the bricks and boards themselves.

Twilight extended a hoof, which the pegasus took cautiously. “Ms. Lightning Dust, I presume? We corresponded via telegrammophone, I’m here representing the treasury of the Royal Demesne of Ponyville—”

“Yeah, I know you,” said Lightning Dust. “You’re that new princess. Princess Twinkle Winkle.”

Twilight gave a genial smile. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, I’m pleased to—”

“Oh.” Lightning Dust had a knack for interruption. A muscle at the corner of her lips wavered, and she glanced over her own shoulder as she spoke, “Sorry. Uh, sorry, Your Majesty.”

“‘Your Majesty’ is actually only for reigning monarchs, for a princess the term is—you know what, call me Twilight, please. May I come in?”

“Yeah,” said Lightning Dust, a touch of wariness in her voice, “sure, come on in.” Slowly, she stepped back and allowed the purple princess to pass into the gym. “So, you’re recruiting, right? You wanted to set up a gym in Ponyville, or something?”

Twilight stepped neatly onto the linoleum floor of the cramped lobby, and began to follow the pegasus deeper into the building. “Broadly, yes. We in Ponyville have money to invest in the demesne, and we’re looking to invest in artistic, scientific, and athletic pursuits. Since you’re an Equestria Games level athlete in several sports with an excellent training record, I thought it would be prudent to meet you on behalf of the treasury.”

Lightning Dust shook her head and laughed as she passed through the double doors into the gym proper. “Your guys send a princess to do your interviews? What, weren’t the Wonderbolts available?”

Twilight smiled wryly, her nose twitching as the blast of hot, sweaty air from the gymnasium hit her. The sounds of fighting and exertion filled her ears, hooves hitting pads and mats, the rhythmic swish of jump ropes, bags swinging to-and-fro on their chains. “I’m told they all had prior commitments,” she said.

“Hah, alright. Look, Princess, I just gotta check that everything is okay with the classes before we talk. You can follow me and take a look if you want, or I’ll point you to my office and you can wait for me.”

“I’ll follow, if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing. Right this way, Princess.”

She led Twilight into a side room where the entire floor was covered in interlocking mats. Two-dozen ponies wrestled in pairs, pushing and grappling and sweeping for a winning position. Lightning Dust walked around the edges, scrutinizing her charges but saying nothing. Minutes passed as they watched, and Twilight saw that the wrestlers were only practicing a set of three different attacks. One pony attacked, the other defended, and when either gained a decisive advantage, they stopped and began anew. An egg-timer rang, and as it did the pairs switched roles, with the other party attacking.

Lightning Dust nudged her. “You know what you’re watching?”

Twilight nodded, slowly. “I think... they’re drilling a fore-lock, leg-choke, shoulder-lock combination.”

The pegasus smirked and whistled. “Somepony’s done their homework, huh? I just wanted to know if you knew what this class was, but it looks like the answer is yes.”

Twilight couldn’t stop a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yanagi Jutsu, the Yielding Willow Art.”

“Right in one. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a willow tree win a wrestling match, but—Posey, hook his damn hinds when you go for the leg-choke, don’t let him stack you—yeah, but every champion brawler in the past century either mastered this art or one just like it. It’s not great if you’re being mobbed by thirty goons, but if you need to trap an opponent or escape an opponent’s trap, there’s nothing like it. You’ve seen it before, huh?”

“My brother, Shining Armor, trained before he went into the guard. He won a few tournaments, I think.”

Lightning Dust raised her eyebrows. “As in, the old captain of the Royal Guard, Shining Armor? I knew him. Trained with him, once.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, back when I was in the Glider Regiment, my unit went to a big cross-forces training camp. I think your brother was a lieutenant back then, but I remember he ran the PT and edged weapons training. I thought he’d be a big wimp who coddled everypony, but he cranked up the marching until half a dozen ponies dropped out from heatstroke, and he kept up just fine with his men. I’m surprised he got his ass kicked by a bug.”

Twilight’s face hinted at a glare, but it slipped back into her gentle smile. “He won in the end.”

Lightning Dust shrugged. “True. Anyway, it looks like these idiots have things in hoof for once, let’s move on.”

They walked along the edge of the mats until they came to the door, back into the main gym where ponies worked over heavy bags and skipped ropes. In one corner, eight ponies stood on their hindlegs, practicing combinations of strikes on leather pads.

“You said you were in the Glider Regiment?”

Lightning Dust made a noise between a grunt and a laugh. “You know I was. Spent five years with the Mauve Machine, spent most of that time on whatever courses and postings would keep me far, far away from my company because the Gliders are a bunch of dickheads, when the few decent dudes left I transferred out into the Aerial Scouts—sneakiest bastards on the planet I tell ya—and stayed with them for two years, passed Wonderbolt selection and stayed as a cadet until I realised they sucked and left. That’s pretty much my military career, right there.”

“You left the Wonderbolts to get back into Mixed Martial Arts? But your test scores at the academy were excep—I mean to say, I’d heard you were a very strong candidate.”

The pegasus’ expression soured. “I was the strongest candidate. I joined them because I heard they were the best of the best, that they do the impossible, but it’s all midden. They’re a bunch of posers who can’t take danger, can’t take risks, and need to swaddle everything in cotton wool like a bunch of babies. So I left. Got back into the one sport where you prove that you’re the best, no matter what it takes, where there’s nothing between victory but your opponent’s hooves and head.” She looked at one of the pairs of fighters and stopped them. “Poppy, Weaver, hold up.”

A mare and a unicorn stallion stopped mid-drill, the mare falling back to all fours and the unicorn lowering his telekinetically-suspended focus mitts. “Poppy, those combos are leaps and bounds better,” said Lightning Dust, “now let’s see you work them into sparring! Weaver, don’t KO her, but if she drops her guard, make sure she feels it!”

Both ponies grunted in assent and nodded, the stallion strapping on hoof-gloves as the mare took a sip of water. They approached one another, touched gloves, and reared back to stand on their hinds. They circled for a few moments, the mare darting in to test her distance with quick jabs, the stallion maintaining a careful guard.

“It must be difficult to fight on two hooves,” said Twilight.

“Uh-huh,” replied Lightning Dust absently, her eyes fixed on the students, “takes a lot of cardio, you gotta build up muscles you didn’t even realise you had, but it’s one of the most versatile stances you can train. Doesn’t mean you can neglect all-fours or clinchwork, but you can’t compete without it.”

The unicorn shot two powerful bursts of magic from his horn, bright enough to sting Twilight’s eyes, which his opponent blocked with crossed forehooves. Before he could follow up with a third, a low kick disrupted his balance and turned his next spell into aether. A straight kick to the stomach in response staggered the mare, followed by two straight punches and another blast of magic. She dropped her guard and a third punch grazed her cheek, but she grabbed him in a clinch and held him close. They pummeled each other with little effect, looking for an opening, until the mare ducked out and hit the unicorn with a clean jab to the chin. He backpedaled as she continued his assault, but kept his guard up and parried the next blows, and they were back to circling once more.

“Good pace, keep it up,” said Lightning Dust, “don’t kill each other yet, the fight is still six weeks away.” She nudged Twilight and beckoned her to follow. “C’mon, Princess, one more stop.”

They walked to a boxing ring, where a donkey and a unicorn sparred each other. As they approached the ropes, another egg timer rang, and the two fighters returned to their corners.

The donkey—a jenny, Twilight realized—waved to Lightning Dust. “Cascos Sucios, how you doing?”

Cascos Sucios... ‘Dirty Hooves?’” asked Twilight.

Lightning Dust nodded. “My nickname.”

The jenny laughed. “She got a record for the longest ban for a single DQ.”

Twilight’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you can get disqualified in mixed pony martial arts?”

“Oh yeah, it’s not a total free-for-all,” said Lightning Dust, “you can still get disqualified for stuff like biting, going for the eyes, going for the dock, spitting, fighting after the ref tells you to stop, that kinda stuff.”

“What did you do, bite an opponent in the eye after the referee said ‘stop?’”

Lightning Dust laughed. “Nah, nothing like that. I grabbed the ropes while I was kicking the nag. Got banned for three years.”

“They banned you for grabbing the ropes?”

Lightning Dust and the donkey laughed harder. “Nope!” said the donkey, “she leaked pay details to the press, and when the bosses found out they ‘banned’ her for the DQ! Bunch of midden-grazers, mare.”

“It was worth it, though,” said Lightning Dust, still smiling, “I had eight pro fighters in my stable back then, and they all got a twenty-five percent raise because of it. Now I’ve got thirty-two pro fighters here.”

The timer rang again and the sparring resumed. The donkey slipped around the ring like a fluid made of spite and roundhouse kicks, never wasting a movement. She was relaxed compared to her opponent, an effervescent unicorn who darted in-and-out of range with jabs and feints so fast that they appeared to flicker as if unreal.

The unicorn’s horn lit, but instead of releasing bolts of pure force, he channeled magic through his limbs. Even his lightest jabs carried the weight of a haymaker, and audibly snapped in the air as the donkey parried them. A hook to the liver interrupted his casting and dissipated the spell, sending out a wave of energy that shook the ring and made the ropes stink of singed nylon. The force blew the sweat off the donkey’s face, but she continued her assault until the unicorn stumbled back on his heels.

Twilight flinched at the blast. “Wow.”

Lightning Dust didn’t take her eyes off the ring, watching her students with a gleeful smile. “I know, right? Archer is scary-good at casting shots, and Dominique is scary-good at resisting them.”

“I can see. I know that ponies can upset casters by staring, and that they can resist direct magical effects by controlling their autonomic bodily magic, but I’ve never seen it done so fast.”

Lightning Dust pulled her eyes from her fighters. “Have you ever been Stared?”

Twilight shook her head. The pegasus smirked and nodded, but said nothing until the timer rang once more and the round ended. As the two fighters walked to the ropes to take a drink, Lightning Dust tapped the post.

“Guys, wait up a sec. I wanna show the Princess here how a Stare works.”

Twilight stammered for a moment as the pegasus breezed past her objections and helped her up into the ring. Dominique the Donkey leaned against the ropes and her training partner slipped out of the ring, looking up at them with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The princess pushed herself up on two hooves and tottered around for a few moments.

“Do I, uh, need to stand up like this?” she asked, and fell back to all-fours with a relieved look when Lightning Dust shook her head.

“Nah, normal is fine,” said the pegasus. “The game is simple. You two stand at the opposite ends of the ring, and don’t approach each other. Princess, you gotta make a soap bubble appear on top of Dominique’s head. Dominique, you gotta stop her.”

Twilight lit up her horn to cast, already picturing the bubble and the correct proportions of water, air and earth, let her magic snake around the scent of lye to lock these mere thoughts into the correct vessel. In a split second the thought had become a spell, a mere pervulsion away from being cast. All she had to do was look at the right place and—

—the donkey looked at her, and the look bore such hate, such hate, so thick with venom and rage that it became its own being, bringing the whole room to bear down on her with such pressure and darkness that even a sun would flicker and die, as if Twilight’s existence was such a grievous insult that only the utter annihilation of all that Twilight ever was and ever would be could right the world, leering at her as if Twilight was no longer a pony, not even a tangible thing, just a pile of hair and sinew and bones hiding a heart that could be crushed like an apple underhoof—

Twilight shrieked and released her magic. No bubble appeared, but the force of unchanneled power hurled the donkey off her hooves and slammed her into the ropes so hard that the posts holding them up fractured. Several seconds later, Lightning Dust and her two students picked themselves up off the mats, laughing uproariously.

“How’s that for blowback?” asked Lightning Dust, dusting herself off and grinning. “Hah, I’d heard you were a phenom.”

The princess stood rooted, her teeth chattering, shaking all over. “I—I’m so, I’m sorry, I broke your ring I’m so, so—”

Lightning Dust made a dismissive noise and helped the shivering alicorn down from the ring. “Chill, it’s covered by the warranty. Anyway, let’s go to my office, some whisky will sort you right out...”

They made their way out of the room and up a set of stairs—shakily, in Twilight’s case—until they reached a pokey office only a little bigger than a bathroom. The carpet was dotted with bleach stains, the walls and shelves were lined with piles of paper, mismatched gloves, empty heavy-bags, first and second place certificates, and empty coffee cups. A small glass cabinet behind Lightning Dust’s desk was crammed with medals and trophies. A pair of weighted horse-shoes hung on a nail on the outside.

Lightning Dust poured whisky into a chipped mug, topped it up with ice cubes and sour mix from a tiny ice box next to her desk, and passed it to Twilight. As Twilight drank the mixture greedily, Lightning Dust opened a bright-blue sports drink and sipped it.

After Twilight had calmed down, she slumped in her chair and looked at the pegasus. “So,” she muttered, “that’s what the Stare feels like...”

“Nah, that’s just a Stare. Not the same as The Stare.”

“A stare?”

“No, a Stare. A stare is just staring at someone. A Stare makes them freeze up and freak out. The Stare is a myth.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” said Lightning Dust, lounging back, “some legend of a great Qirin master whose Stare was so great that it was known as the Stare. His gaze could calm seas, shame gods, even freeze a cockatrice in its tracks. Total horse-shit, of course. Even Celestia ain’t that powerful.”

“Mmhm.” Twilight cradled the mug in two hooves, not yet trusting herself to pick up anything in her magic without dropping or crushing it. Every time she inhaled, the smell of damp leather and scrambled eggs filled her nose.

“So, are you gonna tell me what you’re really here for, Princess?” said Lightning Dust, almost smiling. “I feel like I’ve been an okay host so far. Care to treat me like I’m not a moron?”

Twilight blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Cut the crap, Princess Sparkle. You’re not here for some ‘athletic renewal’ program. You’ve got every member of the Wonderbolts at your royal command, Ponyville has a crazy earth pony marathon culture, jeez, your damn sister-in-law hosted the Equestria Games, if you wanted sports you wouldn’t be here. So what’s your game, huh? Did your little crybaby suck-up friend Rainbow Dash beg you to keep a tab on me? Huh? Huh?”

Twilight sighed, and cast a spell. Lightning Dust bristled. “What the hay did you just do?”

“I created a magical simulacrum identical to this room in every respect, except that the only conversation occurring in the magical room is dreadfully boring and normal. Any surveillance, magical or otherwise, will pick up on the decoy instead.” She paused for a moment, mulling over her words. “I have not been entirely forthcoming, but I do have a job offer. You have the exact set of skills I am looking for.”

“Yeah?”

“You spent seven years in two of the most decorated units in the Equestrian military," said Twilight. "You graduated Glider School top of your class, deployed immediately for an eighteen-month peacekeeping action in the Melicopse Defile, received two commendations for bravery and a rebuke for unauthorized heroism. After returning from deployment, you took courses in room clearing, close-quarters-combat, sniping and spotting, light and medium cloud artillery, wingless maneuvers, combat technomancy, first aid and triage, intelligence attache training—top marks in all of them. Rose to the rank of corporal, your commanding officer wrote on your evaluation that you were a ‘loner’ and ‘reckless with the ponies in your command’ and denied you any further promotion. You passed selection for the Aerial Scouts—one of the most psychologically testing courses in the military—deployed to four different countries that the Equestrian military is categorically not supposed to be in, and transferred into the Wonderbolts when your military contract expired. You broke eight Wonderbolt records in two months of training. I only know of one other pegasus with your level of athletic and physical ability."

"All my military stuff is sealed. Jeez, they shredded half my records. How do you know all that crap?"

Twilight reached into her pack and pulled out a manila folder. "It's all in your dossier."

"What the hay kind of job is this?"

"The kind with dossiers," said Twilight. “Tell me, Lightning Dust, what do you know about demesnes?”

“Huh? Domains?”

“Demesnes. With the ‘e’s and the ‘s’s.”

"Oh, those. Well, let's see, I know that Las Pegasus is a Cloudsdale territory," drawled Lightning Dust, "so demesnes don't matter to me one dumb bit."

"They should matter to you," said Twilight, softly, "because if we don't do something, Equestria will change for the worst. You and I won't recognise the new Equestria, but I guarantee it will not be a place where your thirty-two pro fighters can snap up a twenty-five percent pay raise."

Lightning Dust made a farting noise with her lips, and said dismissively, "The civil war stuff? Feh, even if it does get past the tag-hoofball stage, so what? I've lived worse and I've thrived. I could charge a queen's ransom as a mercenary, and retire someplace warm and sunny on the other side of the frickin' planet."

"I might have misjudged you, then. I'd heard you were more than an errand girl for braying fops who wouldn't know honor and duty if it press-ganged them," said Twilight, acidly.

Lightning Dust bristled. "Or maybe you just look like another fop. You think I'm gonna take your side over every other noble in a bloody war just because you've got a pointy forehead to go with those chicken wings?"

"There won't be a bloody war. I am going to end it before it could ever be called such a thing. With or without your help." Twilight stood, and prepared to leave. "Good day, Ms Lightning Dust—"

The pegasus waved and beckoned her to sit back down. "Hey, Princess, don't be a dumb-bum. Maybe I just wanna hear your offer before I commit to anything..."

"If you join the team, I will authorize the treasury to pay you six figures, right away. If the team succeeds, you'll be paid seven figures," said Twilight. "Also, I wasn't being entirely facetious about bringing you in as an athletic consultant for Ponyville. If that interests you, well, you could have government backing behind your sport and behind your organizations."

Lightning Dust mulled it over for a moment. "That's an okay start, I guess. There's one thing I really want, though, and it's absolutely non-negotiable."

"I'm all ears, Ms Dust."

"Your pal Rainbow Dash, she's still hanging around with the Wonderbolts, right? I want that to stop. I want her kicked off the team, barred from competing in any sporting events that the 'Bolts are at, and banned from both the Wonderbolts Academy and the team barracks. Shoot, if you give her a 200-yard restraining order for all current and former members of the team, I'll halve my fee. Keep your schmancy consultancy plans. That's my terms."

"Two years and you're still interested in petty revenge?"

"It's got nothing to do with revenge," growled Lightning Dust, "it's about principles. The Wonderbolts are the best team in Equestria. If you sign up, you’re not there to become the best flyer, you’re there to make the team strong, even if you have to be ground up to do it. You’re supposed to push yourself past limits, train harder than even the fittest, hardiest ponies are capable of training, work so hard that many—hay, even most—of you will get injured and drop out. If you wanna make diamonds, you crush a whole lot of coal.

“Rainbow Dash talked big about loyalty, but she only cared about herself, not the team. She wanted her name to be in the books and on the rosters, she wanted to be coddled to bring out her skills, and when I tried to push the other recruits, she swaddled them in cotton wool, whined to the boss, and got promoted through ass-kissing and office politics. She is a cancer within one of the four institutions in this world that I hold dear, and if I achieve one unambiguously good deed in my life it will be to excise her smarmy flank.”

Twilight nodded, slowly. “I see you have very strong feelings in that regard.”

The pegasus stretched back in her chair and fixed her with a hard stare. “Yeah. Rock-solid.”

“Well, first I’d like to say that your demands are feasible,” said Twilight, her horn flashing with magic, “but I think there is a pony you should discuss it with first.”

The door-handle turned, and Lightning Dust’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t—

Rainbow Dash strode into the room, a polychromatic flash of brashness. “So you want me outta the ‘Bolts, huh?”

Get out of my gym, you degenerate poser!” snarled Lightning Dust.

“I guess supporting your fighters doesn’t matter as much as seeing me fail. Big surprise there.”

“Get out. Go away. Leave.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Jeez, chill your flanks already. I’m just here to say I’ll do it. If that’s what it takes to get your help, I’m outta the ‘Bolts. I’ll sign anything—legal, magical, whatever—to keep that promise.”

Lightning Dust made a noise as if she’d been slapped. “You would? Ugh, you would, wouldn’t you? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

Rainbow Dash simply shrugged.

“It actually disgusts me that, that you would stoop to this level, Dash, you, you failure of a pony,” spat Lightning Dust. “You were the only other cadet in our class with the skill to even dream of wearing the blue goggles, and you’re gonna forget it all because what, because your friend asked nicely?”

“Twilight thinks she needs your help to save Equestria, and she’s usually right about that stuff,” replied Dash. She sighed, and looked almost solemn. “This civil war thing is bigger than me, it’s bigger than you, it’s bigger than—jeez, I can’t believe I’m saying this—than the Wonderbolts. If it takes giving up my dreams to save Equestria, well, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Lightning Dust’s nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something foul. “That’s such a crock of mealy-mouthed— you know what, Dash? Screw it. Keep your damn Wonderbolts, you weak-winged pansies are made for each other.” She turned to look at Twilight. “Six million bits, and another million up-front. That’s my price, okay? Now give me the damn details and then both of you jackasses get out of my office,” she said, bitterly.

Twilight pulled another folder out of her bag, and slid it over the desk. “Your instructions are here, enchanted to your cutie-mark. If anypony else tries to read them, the papers will turn to dust.”

Lightning Dust snatched the documents and shooed the others away with a wingtip as she began to read. Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash turned to leave, but Twilight stopped just before stepping out of the doorway.

“Oh, Lightning Dust?”

“What?”

“It’s good to have you on the team.”

* * *

Rainbow Dash waited until they were both in the back of the sky carriage before shifting back to her true form, her skin crawling as it shrank and changed.

“That was certainly an ordeal, even without the shape-shifting” she said. “What would we have done if she hadn’t agreed, by the way? I’m not sure the real Rainbow Dash would have taken such a promise lightly.”

“I’m sure we would have thought of something,” said Twilight, “though I was fairly sure that Lightning Dust would react that way. It’s all in the psychology of the individual.”

“Ah, you imagined Rainbow Dash with more anger and no moral compass. Very creative, Sparkle. Whatever happened to the bookish unicorn who couldn’t read ponies if they had their thoughts tattooed on their faces?”

Twilight grinned wryly. “I guess you’re starting to rub off on me, Trixie.”