“Stand up straight, green-hoof! Shoulders back! Chin up! Hooves apart! An earthpony like yourself should be stout as steel, not flimsy like trash!”

Bell Tole obeyed each order immediately as it was given, shifting his hooves into place and thrusting his chest out. “Yes, Sergeant Eye Patch, sir!”

Eye Patch nodded sternly and glared with his one good eye, the other covered by a black patch. Bell Tole wondered if Eye Patch even was his real name, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask. It was hard to tell the sergeant’s mood. His expression was one of ceaseless scowling and Bell Tole could never guess if he was angry, disturbed, or perhaps very hungry.

Bell Tole adjusted his armor for the twentieth time that evening. It was unbelievable that he was finally wearing the official gear of the Royal Guard. Excitement bubbled in his chest and his limbs were jittery. He almost felt like he had wings to fly, or a horn to cast.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Eye Patch grumbled.

Angry it was, then.

The sergeant’s face looked sour enough to make a lemon pucker and his voice was like gravel under a millstone. “You may be excited you’ll be spending your first shift as a Royal Guard in the palace proper on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, but I can tell you I’m not happy to see you. All my good ponies got dragged off to Nordanver, and now I’m stuck working with a pack of green-hooves like you.”

He spat to the side. “You’re all fresh as daisies with rushed training. We’ve never been forced to staff this many new recruits at the Royal Palace before. Next thing you know, they’ll be carting you off to the war too and then they’ll be sending me foals to babysit. Pah!”

“Er, yes sir,” Bell Tole winced, the mention of Nordanver dismantling his bravado. He glanced down at his hooves which, ironically enough, were green.

The irritation seemed to dim in his superior’s eyes. The sergeant sighed then continued in a milder tone. “You know the drill, green-hoof. This corridor connects the Great Hall to the West Wing which houses the Princesses’ chambers. Don’t let anypony past this hallway without the proper pass. Every year we get a couple of popinjays who think a Gala ticket can get them anywhere in this place. Just send them packing right where they came from.”

Bell Tole looked back up saluted with renewed vigor. “That I will, sir. You can count on me! I swear by Princess Celestia’s mercy, I’ll guard this corridor with my very life, just you watch!”

Eye Patch narrowed his eye, clearly unimpressed. Then he shambled off muttering, “I’m not going to sit here and watch you work, green-hoof. Just guard the stupid hallway.”

Perhaps it was just a hallway and perhaps Bell Tole was just a ‘green-hoof’ as the sergeant liked to call them, but this was his first assignment and it was going to be an indisputable success!

Bell Tole stood rigid, his muscles clenched so as not to allow an inch of movement. His jaw was set, his eyes locked forward, and his ears pointed high, alert for any unusual noises. He glared at the wall opposite himself, eyeing the ornate décor bordering each window and column with suspicion. The corridor offered plenty of dark crevices for potential hiding places, but Bell Tole was not about to let anything creep past him, no sir.

Minutes past. The urbane sounds of the orchestra drifted in from the Grand Galloping Gala and warm lights danced along one wall as they streamed in from the tall windows behind him. Occasionally Bell Tole’s mind would wander to the Gala he had so often heard about. He imagined beautifully important mares in their massive gowns, impressive tower cakes, and the taste of the land’s finest wine. Then he would scold himself for harboring such distracting thoughts and his eyes would refocus on the wall again.

After some time, Bell Tole’s body began to stiffen from its locked position. Was it best for him to be so still? Perhaps he should march back and forth down the hallway to help keep his body limber. Yes, that seemed like the proper thing to do.

He was about to take his first step when a voice came from his side.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Somepony shrieked. Bell Tole whirled on the spot and clamped a hoof over his mouth. Surely that hadn’t been him. Shrieking was not a dignified reaction for a palace guard.

Behind him stood a mare, a lilac pegasus in a flowery gown the color of clematis.

She giggled. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, sir.”

Then her gaze shifted past him to the hall beyond. “Is this the way to the West Wing? I’ve heard so much about the Princesses’ chambers. They’re supposed to be beautiful beyond description and full of priceless artifacts.”

Her eyes glittered greedily and she made to move forward but Bell Toll quickly intercepted her path.

“I’m afraid you’re not supposed to be here, mam,” he said stoutly.

The mare looked disappointed. “But I have a Gala ticket. Isn’t that enough to- Oh no!”

The mare fumbled with her satchel and a golden ticket drifted to the ground a few feet away.

She blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m very clumsy.”

“No need to worry, mam,” Bell Tole said with a friendly smile. He turned and bent down to pick up the ticket.

Then pain erupted at the back of his head and Bell Tole crumpled like a sack of turnips.

It had been a trick, he realized. What a disgrace! His first day on the job and he’d already been knocked cold by an intruder. Eye Patch would have his armor, his badge, and his hide. Perhaps his soul too.

As he fell into the boggy swamp of unconsciousness, Bell Tole could hear an echo of his mother’s voice inside his head asking him ruefully, “Why couldn’t you have just stayed home with your books?”

He saw his days as a young colt. His mother had been so hopeful he would become a scholar, or perhaps a librarian like herself. But Bell Tole had read too many fantasy books all of which had filled his little innocent mind with rose tinted dreams of knights battling monsters while protecting fair and powerful princesses.

With every passing year, Bell Tole spent less time indoors with his books and more time outside traversing dangerous forests and clambering through muddy ravines looking for adventure or trouble, it didn’t really matter which, until finally he’d crawl back home in time for dinner and a fierce scolding for the dirt in his mane and the blood on his face.

Bell Tole never did mind the scoldings or the scrapes earned from his shenanigans because he knew one day he would become a Royal House Guard, even if none of his friends believed it.

But his mother was never pleased with his ambitions. “Your too much like your grandfather, Bell Tole,” she’d say with sadness in her eyes.

Then his consciousness resurfaced, and he was awake again.

Bell Tole moaned. His head hurt like Tartarus.

Standing up, he quickly scanned his surroundings. The palace corridor was once again empty, save for himself. Outside the Gala continued undisturbed. Then his ears twitched. Over the muffled din he could just make out the faint rattling of something metallic. Adjusting his armor, he hastened towards the sound, turning the corner into the next hallway.

The corridor was heavy with shadows, more so than the previous one. Moonlight stenciled window shapes onto the walls and pillars. After a moment of staring, Bell Tole noticed a motion at the hallway’s midpoint. He marched toward it.

Once close, he could make out the mare hunched in front of a large door trying to pick the lock.

“I told you, you’re not supposed to be here,” he said sullenly.

The mare gasped and spun around, pressing herself up against the door. Bell Tole’s dark face and glinting armor must have looked ghostly in the dark.

Once the mare recognized him, her expression relaxed, although her posture did not. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “I thought I knocked you out!”

Bell Tole rapped a hoof against his helmet.

The mare blinked. “Oh. Should have accounted for that.”

“You’re here to steal from the palace, aren’t you? I’ll have to take you into custody for that,” Bell Tole explained.

The mare gave a defeated sigh. “I understand, sir.”

She lifted one hoof disarmingly. The other, Bell Tole noticed, was still fumbling with something behind her back.

Before Bell Toll could stop her, the door swung open, allowing the mare to fall into the room. Bell Tole rushed forward to catch her only for the door to slam shut on his snout.

“Ow! Ninnyhammers!”

Bell Tole clutched his smarting nose and shook his head to rid the stars from his eyes. With a grunt of frustration, he rammed the door with his shoulder. It bounced open, revealing what looked to be a waiting room. Inside he saw the mare had discarded her gown to reveal a black sleek suit underneath, the kind he was certain was commonly used for sneaking about royal palaces and knocking out unsuspecting guards.

But what was worse, she was holding a glittering gold candelabrum in her hooves like a filly inspecting her new Hearth’s Warming Eve gift.

“Where did you get that!” Bell Tole demanded. “That isn’t yours. it belongs to the Princesses!”

The mare didn’t seemed bothered by him in the slightest. “This isn’t the Princesses’ chambers, but I suppose it’ll have to do this year.”

She immediately turned and fled through another door at the opposite end of the chamber. Bell Tole tore after her.

In and out of rooms the ran, up stairs, through corridors, and down secret halls.

“Hey, bucket head,” the mare called back as she huffed. “Isn’t that tin can you’re wearing a little heavy on you?”

“This isn’t a tin can,” Bell Tole retorted. “This is the hauberk of the Royal Guard used for centuries and it’s going to arrest you!”

“Oh, come on,” the mare complained. “I’m just taking one trinket for my collection. The Princesses won’t even miss it.”

“It’s not about whether they’ll miss it. It’s about respect!”

Bell Tole had long since lost track of where they were in the palace. Now they were running through a thin, dark corridor that slanted upward towards a small wooden door. The mare darted through it and Bell Tole after her.

What greeted him on the other side brought him to a grinding halt. They were in a spacious room with many wooden support beams both above and below. He realized he himself was now standing on one of these beams as was the mare.

She grinned. “Don’t look down.”

Bell Tole curled his neck to look and immediately wished he hadn’t. Several hundred feet below lay the palace’s main atrium which hosted the Grand Galloping Gala. Somehow, their chase had lead them to the rafters of the Great Hall. From their position the swarm of ponies below looked like tiny insects crawling along the floor.

Vertigo grabbed his stomach in a merciless, iron clench. Bell Tole was quickly reduced to lying flat on his stomach, quivering hooves clutching the wooden beam for dear life.

The mare saw his discomfort and her smile widened gleefully. With confidence she spread her wings and leapt off the beam onto another several yards away. She turned to wink at him.

“Not a fan of heights? Sorry, cutie, but it looks like you’re at a disadvantage up here without wings or magic.”

With a foalish laugh she pulled out the candelabrum and waved it for him to see. “Some guard you turned out to be. I guess all the good ones got shipped off to Nordanver.”

The taunt echoed in Bell Tole’s mind. He imagined the same words coming from his angry commanding officer, his disappointed fellow cohorts, and his jeering friends back home.

Some guard he turned out to be indeed. He’d read so many stories of brave heroes while curled up in his cozy corner at home, his snout pressed into a swamp of crinkly pages. How he had dreamed for years he would one day be half as great as them.

If only he’d known he’d fail so utterly.

Hot, angry blood pumped through Bell Tole’s heart. Such a sorry end was not fit for any of those outstanding heroes. Why should it be fit for him?

Mustering all his will, Bell Tole tore his eyes away from the floor miles below. Refocusing his gaze on the mare across from him, he steeled himself.

Perhaps it was because she had been so confident she was out of reach that when Bell Tole suddenly leapt across the gap, his limbs flailing like green turbines, she hesitated out of shock. Or perhaps it was his scream that caught her off guard, or perhaps the manic fire in his eyes.

In all honesty, Bell Tole shouldn’t have made the jump. He’d never crossed such a gap in a single bound before. Yet somehow the impossible became seemingly possible when you yelled “In the name of the Princesses!” at the top of your lungs.

Time seemed to slow down as his body arced towards the mare. Her expression morphed from surprise to horror. Below them, the orchestra faltered and ponies craned their necks backward to search out the source of the mysterious war cry. Bell Tole’s hoof extended towards the mare and she instinctively drew the candelabrum back and out of his reach. Too late did she realize the shiny trinket had not been his target.

Like a mouse trap slapping down on its prey, Bell Tole’s hoof snagged the mare’s vulnerable tail.

Then time sped up again as gravity awoke and Bell Tole fell like a rock with an attached delivery address to Tartarus. With a shriek, the mare was dragged after him, her hooves leaving deep gouge marks in the support beam as she vainly tried to cling to it.

The floor below rushed to smash them with fiendish glee. Bell Tole was still screaming, but words were no longer intelligible as terror now fueled his voice. Then, a few feet before their untimely deaths, their plummet took a sharp turn and they were soaring haphazardly up and over the crowd. The mare, Bell Tole realized, had just managed to open her wings and turn their fall into flight.

But Bell Tole was too heavy, and as he climbed up the mare’s tail to grab ahold of her middle and continue his screaming in her ear, their trajectory took a steep hair-raising dive.

Vertigo surged again in his stomach which felt like a hot, bubbling cauldron as they flew over ponies, through cakes, and under dresses. Bell Tole looked up to see them hurtling towards a large iron brazier. He had barely enough time to think “That brazier looks awfully painful,” before they slammed into it.

Bell Tole’s helmet rang like a gong and they both spun like pinwheels in an arc before crashing to the ground. Above them the brazier teetered dangerously from the impact. Then it tipped over, the head slamming into a nearby long table covered in pastries. The table cracked in half and desserts flew off it’s top like a flock of terrified pigeons. The entire table promptly burst into flames and the Great Hall filled with shrieks of alarm.

Bell Toll stood up, or rather tried to stand. His stomach still roiled like a witch’s poison vat and lights swam through his vision. The cacophony of screaming surrounding him didn’t help either. He looked up and could barely make out a sea of white, pink, blue, and green filled with stars.

The sea of colors and stars spoke, sounding terribly anxious. “Are you alright, little one?”

Bell Tole did not feel alright. He needed to find a waste bin, or a privy, or a bush, and fast.

“You don’t look so well,” the colors continued. “You fell from such a great height, it’s a miracle you survived!”

The colors were beginning to take form. He soon recognized a tall mare’s beautiful face adorned with a long horn and golden crown. It was Princess Celestia! The mare he’d dreamed of protecting ever since he’d read his first fantasy novel!

He couldn’t believe it was reality. Her glistening mane filled his vision and radiant light warmed his cheeks as she looked down at him with motherly concern. Such splendor was enough to send him right back into the dizzying haze of unconsciousness.

Report! His mind tried to rally him to action. You’ve caught a perpetrator in the palace, you soddening sack of spinach! Report!

The world was still spinning from his collision with the brazier, but he quickly moved forward like an inebriated pony to address his princess, trying his best to avoid small pockets of fire while slipping on the remains of cakes and pies.

“I have something for you, your Highness,” he declared, taking a swift bow.

As his head rapidly descended, his stomach complained one final time that it could no longer hold onto its contents. Like a well-oiled machine, Bell Tole’s mouth opened wide and offered up a river of sick all over the Princess’ forehooves.

Then Bell Toll blacked out, the lingering taste of vomit strong in his mouth and the image of the Royal Princess’ look of horror burned into his eyes for all eternity.

As he sunk into dark despair, he heard in his mind the pitiful wail once more:

Why couldn’t he have just stayed home with his books?

Oh that was good!

Haha! Puking on Princesses prevents promotions.
"Ninnyhammers" is now my favorite soft swear!

Oh wow this was excellent! HAHA right out of some of my favorite type of cartoons awesome for the poor stallion. Then getting sick on the poor Princess! Love love looooooved it!

That poor sot. His perpetrator got away!

Now that the competition is officially over, I guess I can now properly respond to these. Thank you all for taking a moment to leave a comment!

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Thrilled to know you liked it!

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Bell Toll will just have to work harder! And you can thank J. R. R. Tolkien for the soft swear.

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So, so happy to know you enjoyed it so much!

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Don't worry, she didn't. There was an entire aftermath chapter to wrap things up, but it got cut due to the contest's word count limit.

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are you going to publish it?

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Yes! Just as soon as the editing gets done and I can make some cover art for it. :D

I absolutely loved reading this.

When people comment on stories saying it made them laugh aloud, I'll sometimes wonder if they're being figurative or literal. Because it's very rare for me to actually react beyond a snort or a grin, much less anything external at all. It makes me also wonder if I'm a sociopath or something, if something's wrong with me.

Then this story came along and caused me to laugh—a deep, rolling belly laugh that returned two or three times just thinking about the ending.

Within just a few lines, I was already enamored with our protagonist, but floored by the clever little details that tied things into Q&B canon. Trials shows the war, Hopes shows the civilian homefront, and this showed the currently unexplored scene of guards on the homefront.

“You may be excited you’ll be spending your first shift as a Royal Guard in the palace proper on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, but I can tell you I’m not happy to see you. All my good ponies got dragged off to Nordanver, and now I’m stuck working with a pack of green-hooves like you.”

He spat to the side. “You’re all fresh as daisies with rushed training. We’ve never been forced to staff this many new recruits at the Royal Palace before. Next thing you know, they’ll be carting you off to the war too and then they’ll be sending me foals to babysit. Pah!”

It's well-done, believable, and frankly just fantastic. Probably one of my (many) favorite parts about this. In my head, this sentiment, this reality, this idea is canon to Q&B now. I hadn't given it full consideration before and I almost wish I had, because it's a wonderful depth to the effects of the war.

Jumping back a little, I really liked Sergeant Eye Patch and Bell Toll's inner comments about him. It's really easy to write a Guard superior as... well, a one-dimensional jerk, beating down on the newbies. However, he has a wholly understandable reason for being hard on the new recruits like Bell. The situation sucks and he can't do a thing about it except be irritated.

As he fell into the boggy swamp of unconsciousness, Bell Tole could hear an echo of his mother’s voice inside his head asking him ruefully, “Why couldn’t you have just stayed home with your books?”

The flashback trip down Bell's memory lane is wonderful depth to Bell's character. I already cared about him, already liked him, and now I do even more. The image of the young colt covered in dirt and scrapes and absolutely loving it, the implied journey he went through and challenges he overcame... love them. I can relate so much to him. It's not overdone, overplayed—it's just right.

With a foalish laugh she pulled out the candelabrum and waved it for him to see. “Some guard you turned out to be. I guess all the good ones got shipped off to Nordanver.”

The taunt echoed in Bell Tole’s mind. He imagined the same words coming from his angry commanding officer, his disappointed fellow cohorts, and his jeering friends back home.

God, I can't emphasize how much I loved this. You didn't just include Q&B lore for the sake of it. You made it a part of it, as if it were always intended. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. But it's beautifully woven together so seamlessly that when I got here, I was grinning.

So, so well done. Absolute snaps and claps for you on this.

And... then... the ending.

I'm not normally one for bodily jokes. I avoided writing Trumpet for years, never planned on doing it, because it's not my typical sense of humor in that it is so hard to pull off the line between funny and gross.

Report! His mind tried to rally him to action. You’ve caught a perpetrator in the palace, you soddening sack of spinach! Report!

The world was still spinning from his collision with the brazier, but he quickly moved forward like an inebriated pony to address his princess, trying his best to avoid small pockets of fire while slipping on the remains of cakes and pies.

“I have something for you, your Highness,” he declared, taking a swift bow.

As his head rapidly descended, his stomach complained one final time that it could no longer hold onto its contents. Like a well-oiled machine, Bell Tole’s mouth opened wide and offered up a river of sick all over the Princess’ forehooves.

The execution here has had me floored with amusement and actual, literal laughter whenever I think of it. Anzel and I have been, randomly, quoting it.

"Babe," I'll say, "I have something for you—HUAAAUAHGHGHGBLBLBAHGH!"

We'll be in the car and one of us will quote it and we'll just start laughing again. One kind of stupid mushy couple thing Anzel and I have is that... we love each other's uninhibited, full, total, complete laughs. Few things bring us more joy than being able to pull that laugh out of the other.

This ending is able to taunt and tease that laugh out effortlessly, so, thank you.

Thank you for writing a story that stands great on its own, but also stands strong within Q&B lore, as if it were a natural part of it. Thank you for entering the contest, for sharing your first work with us all. And thank you for giving me an easy mode cheat button to trigger my partner's best laugh.

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!!!

The whole concept of the war and how it affects the Equestrian world has been the most fascinating thing to me about the Q&B universe and I've loved how you and Anzel have addressed it throughout your stories. Your work has inspired me to write several thousands of words of Q&B fanfiction trying to explore the idea even more just out of pure intrigue.

And I'm so happy you understood Sergeant Eye Patch! He's just an old stallion full of sadness cause all his subordinates got taken away from him to a dangerous place and he's frightened he may never see them again. He wanted to go as well, but was told he was too old and that some had to stay behind to help keep order with the new recruits. The fact he can't watch over his guards while they're fighting on the front lines eats at him every day.

So very happy you folks hosted this contest and gave me an opportunity to come out of my shell a bit. Thank you, your welcome, and thank you!

So many great characters here, and I really felt for Bell at the end. His inner monologue really connected me with the guy, and while it was great that he got the thief... yeah... You just aren't ever going to get past doing that. Nope. You're done: that is how you earn a nickname forever. I liked the mare as an antagonist... I was reminded a bit of Catwoman and Batman (if Batman were drugged and having his worst day ever that didn't involve something dark and edgy...). I look forward to seeing this published, to see whatever you decide to add to it (though anticipating Eye Patch's response has me figuratively wincing just a bit). Thanks for writing!

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Thank you! I look forward to sharing the 2nd chapter as soon as it's ready!