The nagging, persistent headache was becoming annoying. Gosling struggled against it, he could feel the pressure behind his eyes, and his mouth was dry. After a rough morning, Seville had gone to take a nap in his new quarters, a guest room in the uppermost reaches of the gatehouse. It wasn’t very large, but it had a window with a magnificent view.
The incessant beeping of the telegraph had done nothing to help with his headache, but much to Gosling’s relief, he was done with that for the day. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and wondered if he could get away with quitting early. He still had a few reports to file, folders to organise, trivial tasks that he could take care of come morning.
“Private Gosling?”
Opening his eyes, he winced as the bright lights speared into his brain, causing throbbing explosions of pain. He felt his whole body tense and his guts clenched. It took him several seconds to pull himself together and make a reply.
“Yes?”
He did not know the pony addressing him. It was somepony he had never seen before. She was of slim build, had a pale orange pelt, short legs, and her muted pink mane was bobbed. She had thick glasses balanced on her muzzle. She had a garrison cap that had been pressed to perfection and she wore it at what could only be described as a jaunty angle. No doubt, she had to use bobby pins to keep it on her head.
“My name is Watcher Summer Squash.” The mare smiled, but did not reveal her teeth. “Do you have a moment, Private Gosling?”
“I have a moment, Watcher.” Gosling stood up from his chair, wobbled for a moment as he got his balance, and he wished that his head would stop hurting. Perhaps a cup of coffee would help him feel better. “Watcher… I’ve heard that rank before, but I can’t place it.”
The mare snapped out a wing and with a swift assured movement, she brushed some donut crumbs off of Gosling. She leaned forwards to inspect her work, snorted, did a bit more brushing, and then looked Gosling in the eye. “Intelligence has its own ranks. I am a Watcher. In guard terms, I am a captain.”
“Oh.” Gosling nodded and watched as Summer Squash folded her wing against her side. How did a pegasus end up with a name like Summer Squash? He wanted to know, but he was afraid to ask.
“I am pleased to report that your days of wearing armor are done. You will be fitted for a doublet very soon. Effective in a few days, your new rank will be Lantern Specialist, as befitting your background from the signal corps.” Summer Squash pulled out a small wooden box from her own doublet using her wing and set it down upon the table next to Gosling. “In guard terms, that would make you a corporal.”
Unmoving, Gosling stood there, stunned, unsure of what to say or how to reply.
“I understand that you were probably expecting some formal ceremony, but we do things in a different way. No brass bands. No parades. We just get our jobs done and go on with our business.” Summer Squash raised her wing in salute. “Ex Ignis Amicitiae!”
Without even thinking about it, Gosling snapped to attention, returned the salute, and replied in kind, “Ex Ignis Amicitiae,” but did so in a far more subdued voice.
“You will still officially hold the rank of private in the night patrol. We will meet again, Lantern Specialist Gosling. Because of your close proximity to them, you will be reporting directly to Blueblood and Raven.”
“Hey, waitaminute...” Gosling’s eyes glittered with both cunning and intelligence.
“Yes?” Summer Squash stood waiting.
“Now that I’m a spook—”
“We don’t like using that term, it has negative connotations,” Summer Squash said, correcting Gosling before he could say anything else. “What is it that you want?”
“I want to protect my friend, Seville,” Gosling replied. “Is there, uh, anything that we can do to make him a little safer somehow?” His ears stood up in a most attentive manner and he tilted his head off to one side as he gave the pegasus officer his best quizzical look.
“How?” Summer Squash asked.
“Well, I don’t know, I was asking you.” Gosling kept his voice low as he spoke, not wanting others to eavesdrop, but also because of his thudding skull. “Wishful thinking I guess… I just don’t want him hurt, that’s all.”
Summer Squash cleared her throat, looked around, and then leaned in closer to Gosling. She placed her lips close to his ear, straining and stretching her neck to gain the height required.
“We recruit civilians,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “and we are discussing offering Seville a position in propaganda.”
“Hmm.” Gosling took a step backward and looked Summer Squash in the eye. He stared at her, saying nothing, thinking about what she had just said and trying to determine if Seville would go along with such a thing.
“We won’t ask him to do anything disreputable or dishonest.” Summer took a step back from Gosling, eyed the wooden box on the table, and then her eyes returned to Gosling. “Maybe you could give him a little talk and see if he is receptive to such a thing. We’ll feed him our intel on our enemies and then maybe he can do a little writing to explain to the public what sort of maniacs we’re dealing with in terms that the common pony will understand.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Gosling said to Summer Squash.
“Good deal.” Having had her say, the pegasus mare turned around, adjusting her glasses as she did so, and then exited the office, leaving Gosling alone. She shut the door behind her and it closed with a soft click.
Overcome with curiousity, Gosling opened the wooden box and gasped when he saw what was inside. Four little brass lanterns, all made with exquisite detail. A tiny fire flickered inside each one. His headache now forgotten, he stared at them with his mouth hanging open. Two would go on the lapels of his doublet, and the other two would go on his sleeves, or so he guessed.
Staring at the insignias of his rank, he felt his stress, fear, and worry melting away. Somehow, seeing the tiny lanterns with the flickering flames inside made everything worth it. He felt his spirit soar and a half-grin turned up the left corner of his mouth.
He closed the lid of the wooden box, tucked it under his wing so he could carry it, it was no larger than a book, and then Gosling decided that he was done for the day. He was overcome with happiness that he needed to share.
“Hey Ma…”
“Gossy?”
“Lookie.” As Gosling spoke, he set the wooden box down upon his mother’s table. He took a step back to get out of his mother's way, and then fidgeted while he waited for her to open it and have a look.
Sleet moved with a slowness that was painful to Gosling, eyeing the box, she sidled up to the table, reached out with her wing, and opened it up. Right away, she gasped and her mouth opened up in a round ‘O’ of shock and surprise.
Her wings flapped against her sides and her head jerked around to look at Gosling. Sleet’s blue eyes were filled with anxious excitement. “Is this what I think it is? Gossy… did you get a promotion?”
“Yeah I did, Ma. Lantern Specialist. I’m being transferred over to intelligence—”
“Oh, for the love of the blessed alicorns, my son is a spook!”
“Ma, we don’t use the term ‘spook.’ It has negative connotations.”
For a moment, Sleet looked as though she was chewing on a lemon. She glared up at her son, her face an odd mix of joy, happiness, and something else that Gosling couldn’t quite make out.
“Already, you talk like a spook—”
“Ma…”
A sly smile spread over Sleet’s face and her eyes narrowed as she looked up at her son. “I’m proud of my son. I don’t care if you are a spook”—her words caused Gosling to roll his eyes—“and I couldn’t be happier for you.” After blinking a few times, Sleet’s eyes glistened with tears.
Gosling watched as his mother turned her head and stared at the box that held the four little lanterns with tiny, flickering flames. Something about her happiness melted all of his stress away and the throbbing in his head eased off to the point where the pain was now tolerable.
“My son is going to climb the ladder and he’s going to do it by his own merits. A mother could never be prouder.” Sleet turned to face her son and much to Gosling’s dismay, there was sadness in her eyes. “Gossy… I hate to be a soggy raincloud, but I have some news for you… I suppose you should know sooner, rather than later.”
“Ma?”
“Gossy, Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor offered me a job. Now, I know how you feel about me working, but that wouldn’t be working. I’d be sitting in the lap of luxury, doing what I love. That’s not working, Gosling, that’s having your cake and eating it too.”
Smiling, Gosling thought of Flurry Heart and her boring nanny. A warm squishy feeling could be felt in his barrel, right about where his heart was. Having his mother in the Crystal Empire would make his trips north all the more worth it. He could spend time with Flurry, he loved the little filly, he adored her, and he could see his mother in an environment where she was happy.
“Ma, I think that’d be wonderful,” Gosling said to his mother. “You deserve to be happy. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ll be heading north on a regular basis, so we’ll be seeing each other often.”
There was a sigh from Sleet and her wings rustled against her sides. “I gotta say, I’m relieved. I’m leaving in just a few days, Gosling. I got an urgent letter… it seems that Flurry’s previous nanny resigned when some twit made a helmet for her out of a crystal melon.”
“Wow… really? Who does something like that? It could leave a foal all sticky.”
“Who indeed, Gossy, who indeed…”
Princess Celestia was surrounded by foals. Gosling stood watching, leaning up against a support pillar, content to be watching her even if he didn’t have her attention. Even though she still wasn’t supposed to be working in any sort of official capacity, she was allowed to do this, as it was relaxing for her. She was patient, she was soft spoken, and as Gosling observed, he could not help but notice that she had some way of making each foal she spoke to feel special, something that she observed about them, something that stood out.
She was amazing, and he knew it.
When he heard giggling, his ears perked. He could see little heads bobbing up and down as they all turned to look at him. Celestia was looking at him too, and there was terrible mischief in her eyes. One little filly broke off from the group, she was a soft pale off white colour and had a dark blue mane with lighter blue streaks.
The little filly was fearless as she approached and Gosling lowered his head so he could a bit more at her eye level. She was small, so very small, and Gosling had no idea how old she might be. Older than Flurry. More developed. But he didn’t know how old.
“Headmistress Celestia said that you gave her cooties,” the filly said in a stern, bold voice. Her tiny brow furrowed and she came to a stop right in front of Gosling, inches away from his nose.
He was surprised by how well spoken she was. She had perfect diction, at least compared to what he was used to hearing, and her enunciation was spot on. She said her words better than he did.
“You shouldn’t give Headmistress Celestia cooties. That’s gross.”
“Is that so?” Gosling asked.
“Yes,” the filly replied in a very matter-of-fact voice. “That’s just yucko.”
“Say,” Gosling said in a low voice, “I think you’re forgetting something.”
“I am?” The filly looked up at Gosling with wide, curious eyes.
“Yes you are,” Gosling replied.
“What am I forgetting?” The filly’s ears stood up at attention as she waited for Gosling to reply.
“That I can give you cooties too!” As Gosling spoke, his wings sprang from his sides and he lunged forwards.
The filly let out an ear piercing shriek, a siren’s wail, and then she took off with surprising speed, running for her very life as Gosling flapped right behind her. Her keening wail echoed off of the walls and it was joined by the screams of her fellow panicked students, all of whom were now running for their lives as well. The herd of little foals scattered like chickens while Gosling flapped his wings and gave a short chase.
The herd moved as one.
As the foals scattered, Celestia crowed with laughter and there was a loud thump as she fell over and hit the ground. Clutching her barrel with her forelegs, she rolled over onto her back and rocked from side to side, squeezing her eyes shut as she guffawed. Tears of riotous laughter spilled down her cheeks and Gosling froze in place as he watched her.
“PRINCE GOSLING ALMOST GAVE ME COOTIES!” the filly cried as she fled.