Chapter One Hundred Thirty
Chapter One Hundred Thirty
Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time, Tempest found herself probing at the empty socket in her mouth with the tip of her tongue, simply unable to ignore its presence. It wasn't the first time she'd ever lost a tooth, but it was the first time that she'd ever lost one voluntarily.
She knew the tooth in question hadn't been good for a while, and could stand to be removed. She just... hadn't quite gotten around to having it taken care of yet. She'd simply been too busy managing and tending to various duties in the Storm King's army to actually go see the dentist.
...
Oh, who was she even trying to kid? That was a pathetic lie even by her own standards. She'd both hated and feared going to see a dentist and had put the whole thing off, opting to simply put up with the pain and use the other side of her mouth for chewing and whatnot. Figuring that if it ever got too bad then she'd simply take a punch to the face and hope the force and delivery were enough to knock the tooth right out, and simply be done with it.
As she reclined on the infirmary bed, idly staring up at the ceiling and counting its tiles as her tongue prodded away, that decision in her life was finding itself joining numerous others as it was tossed on the rethink/reconsideration pile. If she had known just how far the field of dentistry had developed and advanced in the last twenty years, she wouldn't have put it off for so long.
The extraction process had been so smooth, she could scarcely believe it'd already happened. Even as the nitrous oxide and novocaine wore off, the lingering pain from the extraction seemed to pale in comparison to the pain she'd put up with whenever the tooth flared up and reminded her of its existence. Compared to that, what she felt now was nothing.
"And to think. I hesitated," she mumbled to herself, the slurring of her speech all but gone at this point.
The promise of a potion to restore the lost enamel on the rest of her teeth, as well as one to regrow her extracted molar before the socket closed up, had been made for sometime tomorrow. But in all honesty she wasn't really holding her breath. That was just hoping for too much, wasn't it? She didn't get this good of treatment anywhere, but Canterlot was treating her almost like she was royalty.
That fact in itself made her feel all the worse about what she'd been willing to do in the name of getting her horn back. It made her feel like she didn't deserve this five-star treatment at all; which she likely didn't.
But somehow they'd known about her, about her arrival and plans, and had instead welcomed her with open forelegs like greeting an old friend. That just made the guilt hurt all the worse.
Maybe the Espada had been right. Maybe she really was still Fizzlepop Berrytwist and not Tempest Shadow after all. Tempest Shadow wouldn't feel guilt like this; guilt was for the weak.
She found her thoughts being interrupted as her ears flicked at a new sound in the room. Something that had the pattern of hoof steps but not the same sound, and were approaching the bed. It made her tense up in anticipation of just what was on the other side of the hanging privacy curtain.
"Hello?" a stallion's voice called from the other side of the curtain, "is now a good time for visitors?"
She didn't recognize the pony the voice belonged to, which was both good and bad. She'd only spoken with a few ponies that worked at the palace, so she didn't know that many. But at the same time it didn't sound like anyone who would have a grudge against her for her past actions. So it could really go either way.
"That depends," she said as she sat up a bit straighter, doing her best not to slur her words as she spoke. "Who exactly is asking?"
She hadn't given permission to be disturbed, but despite that the curtain was still pushed aside to reveal her visitor. A unicorn stallion of average height, and average build, with a slate gray coat, ink black mane and tail that looked rather unkempt like they hadn't seen the business end of a comb for a number of days, and brown eyes that looked like they were made from poured walnut stain.
But the most outstanding aspect of his entire appearance, besides the goggles that hung limply around his neck, was the fur on his face, from his muzzle to the scalp, looking as if he'd been splashed with something that'd completely acid washed all the color right out of it and left it pure white.
"That would be me. Toggle Bolt is the name, research and development is the game. I'm the chief engineer for the entire department," he stated warmly and extended his right foreleg towards her.
Tempest hesitated, but returned the gesture regardless. Before taking note of the horseshoes currently on his hooves.
"What exactly are you wearing? Are these shoes... plastic?"
Toggle Bolt chuckled and shook his head in response. "No, no. We don't do that here. These are shoes made from a non-conductive, rubber composite material. When you're working around some of the stuff that we are, they're a necessity."
"That makes sense," Tempest noted as the gesture ended. "So what brings you by to visit me?"
"Intrigue, among other things. The palace has been absolutely abuzz with talk since you showed up in your airship the other day. The cooks, the janitors, even the gardeners have heard about your arrival, and the talk filtering through the grapevine is getting more and more ridiculous with each new iteration.
"But R&D doesn't deal in rumors and gossip; we don't have anywhere near enough budget for that sort of thing. So while my staff is busy with helping make repairs to your airship, I decided to come and meet the one behind all of the excitement. When in doubt, it's always best to go straight to the source."
"Oh," was all Tempest could manage to offer up as a response.
"But enough of this beating about the bush nonsense, I'll get straight to the point. Doctor Malar asked me to come by and help," Toggle Bolt continued. "Princess Celestia told him to get you back up on all four of your hooves again. Which he took as one of those high society wink-wink/nudge-nudge/plausible deniability go aheads to have me come in to assist."
"Meaning what exactly?" Tempest asked, her curiosity starting to be overruled by annoyance and frustration at him not actually getting to the point like he'd promised her.
"Meaning I'm here to see about fitting you for a new prosthetic leg," Toggle Bolt stated. "Mal' was pretty clear when he said Big White specified all four hooves again, which really isn't physically possible in your case, otherwise I wouldn't be here."
An uneasy sensation was currently creeping its way up Tempest's back, and slowly spreading throughout the rest of her body as she heard the explanation.
Even before they'd set out on the journey to return to Equestria, she had known, understood, and even accepted that there would be consequences to be faced for her actions. She had, in her mind at least, been fully prepared for that development to occur the moment she descended the gangplank to meet with Princess Celestia and throw herself on her mercy.
But to hear about how the palace staff were actually gossiping amongst themselves about her, that was an entirely different sort of disconcerting that she hadn't prepared herself for being subjected to.
"I already have a prosthetic leg..."
The friendly look on Toggle Bolt's suddenly darkened, leaving Tempest uncertain just what she had said that would make him look like he was now angry. Was it because she was rejecting his offer of assistance?
"What you have is a poor excuse for a walking implement," he stated. "My department was asked to give it and your armor a once-over, both to make sure everything was on the up and up, and to see if it needed to be serviced like your ship. And based on our findings I simply can't, in good faith, allow you to continue hobbling around on that thing without at least giving you the option of a much-needed upgrade. Maybe it was top of the line ten years ago, outside of Equestria, but compared to what we have now it's downright primitive, pedestrian, utilitarian..."
The last word was growled as if it were some unforgivable curse to be uttered in his circle.
"The one saving grace to its design, is that it looks like a natural extension of your armor; like you wore a sleeve specifically along the entire length of your left foreleg, so it doesn't blatantly stick out like a sore hoof. But today's technology is simply so much better. Please, at the very least, let me show you what the Mark Seven iteration of prosthetic legs has to offer. The final product has only been out for six months, so it hasn't been approved by the Equestrian Medical Association yet, but it was designed and built specifically with guard duties in mind; standing, marching, galloping, restraining, drills, etc."
Tempest could do little more than watch and listen in stunned -and confused- silence. The mood in the room had gone from hostile to sales pitch really freaking fast.
"This is really that important to you?"
"You're a pony in need, and have been for quite some time. That's what engineers ultimately do; we figure out ways to help those that're in need, by figuring out how to improve upon the status quo," Toggle Bolt insisted. "I understand if you don't want to ask for help, because I've been there plenty of times myself. And there are still times I'm like that, even on the job. But you're not asking, I'm offering preemptively because I think it's worthwhile. So what do you say? Will you meet me halfway? Will you at least look over what we have to offer you?"
Tempest opened her mouth, but found the words wouldn't easily come to her, even as she moved her mouth to try and speak. In truth she really didn't know just what she wanted to say. The sheer amount of generosity she was being so freely subjected to right now was well outside of anything she was accustomed to. Frankly it made her feel... downright uncomfortable. This was well beyond the sort of hospitality that her reputation as serving the Storm King would bring her wherever she went to execute that idiot's orders and whims. This felt far more genuine and freely offered in comparison. Far more guilt inducing...
"It's not in fire engine red, is it?" she asked. "I hate fire engine red..."
The look of confusion on Toggle Bolt's face at the statement lasted for about half a second, before turning into an amused smirk.
"I can see you're a mare of refined, mature tastes. Fire engine red by itself is gauche, and when mixed with gold it's positively ostentatious," he stated dismissively. "The surging popularity of those Ironhorse comics has done nothing beneficial for the development of functional prosthetic limbs, I can tell you that right now."
Tempest looked at him blankly in response. "Ironhorse?"
Toggle Bolt didn't want to admit it, but the question had actually caught him off guard.
"You... you honestly don't know about Ironhorse?"
Tempest shook her head in response.
"Wow..." Toggle Bolt replied, flabbergasted by the fact. "Oh, my dear. My dear, you and I simply must have a conversation about this while I take down your measurements."
"... That's the weirdest pickup line I think that I've ever heard before," Tempest stated, uncertain of what else to say.
"Pickup line? Please. You seem like a nice pony, but you're really not my type," Toggle Bolt replied dismissively. "No, I need to get you properly measured and sized up in the event you decide to take advantage of the offer. I don't need to see you standing up, to know you're a good deal taller than the average pony; the standard leg would be too short on you.
"So I need to confirm details like joint distance, degree of rotation, joint position, and even key circumferences of your other leg so the end result is not only symmetrical, it's also specifically tailored to you. How you stand, how you move, how you carry yourself, etc. we'll need all of those details for the best possible fit and finish. Otherwise we might as well just be fitting you for a peg leg and calling it good enough."
"There's really that much that goes into a fitting for a prosthetic leg?" Tempest asked.
"That and a whole lot more if you actually want it done properly. Believe me, when you see just what's being offered, you'll understand why," Toggle Bolt explained.
"And you're sure Princess Celestia is alright with all of this?" Tempest asked. "Up until a few days ago I was willing to sell out Equestria for my own selfish interests. And the next thing I know I'm here, getting four-star treatment, and the offer of even more. How can she be so... so... kind? So supportive? So... loving? I didn't do anything to deserve this sort of treatment."
"No, you really didn't," Toggle Bolt agreed without even hesitating. "Look, like I said, R&D doesn't deal in rumors. But if even half the talk I've heard going on around the palace is accurate, you probably would've been killed on sight if it were anypony else at the helm. But Princess Celestia has a lot of forgiveness to her. Especially for those that're remorseful about their bad actions.
"She didn't order the imprisonment of a showpony who exploited a cursed magical artifact for petty revenge. She believed Discord had the potential for good when nopony else thought it possible. And she hired an orderly from Canterlot General Hospital who was complicit in torturing a national hero. Short of actually murdering somepony, I'd be hard pressed to think of something you actually could do that would land you on the crap list."
"How comforting..." Tempest mumbled in response as she slowly turned her focus downward towards the bedding she was currently under. "Listen. Toggle Bolt. Could we do this later? At the moment I'm really not feeling up to any of this..."
Toggle Bolt could do little more than give her a quizzical look his response, his brow furrowing in confusion as he tried to make sense of what was being said. But in the end there was little he could do except nod politely.
"Of course. Whenever you're ready."
Celestia hating paperwork was as much a universal constant as the fact it was impossible to get a prime number from adding two even numbers together. There was simply no way of disputing such.
But hating it or not, even she had to admit that it provided her with a much-needed distraction from the general insanity that'd seemed to be plaguing the last the days since Princess Twilight appeared in their world. If nothing else it helped ground her mind in the here and now, dealing with matters that she could more easily understand. It gave her something to focus on, because it needed her focus and attention.
"Lieutenant Thunder Strike."
Each of the guards who'd taken the Captain's Exam had been interviewed in turn, in the order of lowest score to highest score. Piercing Lance, Brick Wall, Bolt Face and Slam Fire. And now it was Thunder Strike's turn.
There was no sound coming from the other side of her desk to indicate said guard jumped to attention. For he'd been standing at attention from the moment he'd entered her office.
Of all the guards currently on staff at the palace, he seemed to stand out the most amongst them. There was a certain peacock quality in how he conducted himself in terms of presentation, professionalism, and seriousness. His armor seemed like it was always polished to the point it practically gleamed in the sunlight, in a manner better suited for the honour guard. His chestnut mane and tail was always well combed and trimmed neatly and evenly, and his white coat brushed and looked like he had himself regularly steam cleaned. Even his storm cloud cutie mark looked trimmed and brushed.
Honestly, he made her think of a recruitment poster in how he presented his outward appearance, with a heavy emphasis in meeting uniform requirements.
"Yes, Ma'am!" he stated, firmly but without shouting like some of the other applicants had felt the need to.
Even now as he stood before her, he looked as cool as a cucumber, and as collected as a sack of marbles a foal had won in a match. Definitely a stark contrast to some who'd been in his position in the past, as if he always knew just the right degree of volume to use in any given situation.
"Can you tell me why you're here today, Lieutenant Strike?" Celestia asked.
"To be interviewed, to determine whether or not I'm actually fit to be promoted to Captain of the Royal Guard," he stated simply.
"Correct," Celestia noted. "Now, tell me, Lieutenant Strike. If you were promoted, what is it that you could bring to the Royal Guard?"
"They very best that I have to offer, Your Highness. Dedication, professionalism, and discipline," he stated firmly. "I'm fully prepared to do whatever is required to make the Guard an organization you can be proud of once again."
Celestia paused. She'd been in the process of looking back towards the contents of the manila folder in front of her. But then she slowly looked up over the folder and back towards him, wondering if she'd just heard what she'd thought she'd heard.
"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that last part again, Lieutenant Strike? I don't think I heard you right."
"I said that I'm fully prepared to do whatever is required to make the Guard an organization you can be proud of again, Your Highness."
So she hadn't actually heard wrong after all.
Slowly, she set the folder down on the desk so it couldn't serve as a distraction.
"Lieutenant, tell me something. Have I done or otherwise said anything, either to or to anypony else, that might give the impression I'm not proud of the Guard?"
"N-no, Your Highness, you haven't," he replied hesitantly, his voice no longer as firm and focused as it had been at the start.
"That's good to know then," she noted. "But now I'm very curious as to where this idea came from. If it wasn't something that I said, how exactly did this notion that I'm not proud of the Guard, ever come up?"
Lieutenant Strike didn't immediately comment. To an untrained observer it looked like he hadn't even heard the question at all. But she had seen the subtle way his muscles twitched and shifted his coat at her words. She'd seen the same sort of response at more get-togethers and social functions than she cared to remember in terms of numbers. The cues were extremely subtle, and could easily be missed. But she could see the cold, professional exterior of the Lieutenant begin to weaken in response to the question.
It was starting to remind her a lot of Twilight's early years as her personal student, trying to work up the nerve necessary to self-report when she'd believed she'd committed some grave infraction that needed to be punished, because the sense of guilt she was experiencing at the time wouldn't allow her to do anything else.
"There was a time in our nation's history when the Guard was everything, when they were looked to by ponies as a source of hope, and strength, and security in the darkest of times. We were the ones that kept ponies safe from the evils that lurked in the shadows where the good wouldn't dare to venture on their own. They would look up at us as we stood strong in our impeccable armor, dream of being like us, strive to join our ranks so they could..."
He paused, having to take a steadying breath as his voice wavered as he spoke. After a moment of composure, he continued slowly.
"Those times are long gone, Your Highness. Ponies don't look at us the way they used to anymore. We used to be regarded as national heroes. We used to be sent out to quell problems before they grew out of proportion and threatened the kingdom. We drove back that which lurked in the darkness so that others could be safe, blissfully unaware of what was waiting to prey upon them.
"Now that duty and responsibility has fallen to others. Your student, Twilight Sparkle, and her five friends. Going out and facing the dangers of the world that we were tasked with stopping; the dangers that our illustrious organization were specifically formed to deal with from the beginning. Now they're the ones accomplishing what we no longer have the ability to accomplish on our own, because of how far we've fallen over the years. It tells ponies that they can't depend on us anymore; that we as an organization have failed them and no longer serve any purpose in existing."
Celestia remained silent, waiting to see just where this would lead without her interference.
"... The Guard isn't what it used to be when I first graduated from the academy seven years ago, Your Highness," he continued, his voice uneasy as he tried to remain calm and collected. "The regulations that've moulded us and guided us for so long, that were drilled into us from our first days at the academy until the time we graduated, haven't been receiving the same amount of respect and enforcement they used to. Every year, it seems like the standards on acceptable conduct and decorum for the Guard become just a bit more lax than they were the year previously. Reflecting the fact that we're not what we used to be.
"We're but a pale imitation of the illustrious organization you instituted all those centuries ago, Your Highness. You have every right to be ashamed of us for what we've allowed ourselves to become. We're disappointments, to you and the ponies of Equestria we swore to protect. We..."
Throughout the explanation, the strength in his voice had been wavering and quaking as he spoke, making it a constant struggle for him to try and keep himself collected.
She had wanted to see just where the explanation would go if she didn't interrupt. But now she'd seen enough, and it was just far too painful to continue watching as the guard before her struggled to go on, down a path that she really didn't care to witness.
"Lieutenant," she interrupted, her voice firm but kind as she spoke.
It was only once he was focused back on her again, and she was certain she had his attention, did she start speaking again.
"I've never been disappointed in the Royal Guard, so please don't believe otherwise, no matter what anypony may tell you to the contrary," she insisted.
"May I ask why not, Your Highness?" he asked. "You'd be justified if you were. Faust knows our failures have been significant and numerous enough to warrant it. Nightmare Moon's return, Discord's release, the changeling invasions, the dragon incursions, King Sombra's return... they all occurred within the last few years, all on our organization's watch, and we weren't capable of stopping a single one of them. We were formed to address problems like this and keep the innocents safe.
"And who was it that neutralized these threats and kept the world from succumbing to darkness? A recent college graduate, a tailor, a vet, a farmer, a caterer, a weatherpony, a baby dragon, and most recently a ghost from another world. They did what none of us could do despite all of our years of experience in training, tactics, and equipment being tailored specifically towards achieving those goals, and the millions in taxpayer money spent towards such. How-"
He paused, needing to take a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself as he continued.
"How can you not be disappointed in us, Your Highness? What could any of us have possibly done to redeem ourselves, in light of so many failures that've forced civilians to rely on themselves?"
"Lieutenant," Celestia started, but paused to let out a soft sigh and momentarily close her eyes, before looking back towards him. "Thunder Strike, please remove your helmet for me. I'd like to speak with the pony that makes the guard, face-to-face."
A look of confusion crossed his face in response. But he complied regardless as his horn began to glow, as he carefully lifted his helmet up off of his head and held it to his side.
"That's better," she replied and smiled kindly. "Thunder Strike, I know how seriously you take your duty in being a guard; I've seen your service record for myself. It's commendable, it's respectable. I can't tell you just how happy I am, to know there are ponies who view the Royal Guard with so much respect."
Despite his best efforts at keeping his expression neutral, she could see the slight smile trying to play at the corners of his mouth at her praise.
"But the simple truth is that I don't expect the Royal Guard to be a military force for neutralizing every threat that might come Equestria's way. I don't expect any of you to go charging into battle, facing down alicorn-level threats in the name of protecting the creatures that call this nation their home. We haven't had need of that type of response in a very, very long time, and I'd much rather we not go back to actually needing that type of response either. I've seen too many good ponies die, because they were following a sense of duty that compelled them to make the ultimate sacrifice when it just wasn't necessary for them to do that. I'd rather not see that trend continue.
"You don't disappoint me, Thunder Strike. Not as a guard, and not as an individual who's trying to do his job to the best of his abilities.
"Yes, failures have been had in the past, and failures will continue to be had in the future. It's just as simple as that, and no amount of drilling and preparation will be able to stop that. But I don't expect any of you to be perfect, when even I can't accomplish that goal. The failures that we've experienced are just as much mine as they could be anypony's. The only disappointment that I have is with myself, and myself alone."
This time it was Celestia's turn to pause as she took a moment to catch her breath and compose herself, lest she crack in front of him in an undignified manner.
"I had to wear a mask of professionalism at all hours, because so many ponies needed me, depended on me, counted on me. I spent one thousand years being angry at myself every single day over the loss of my sister, and unable to so much as even hint to the ponies I was surrounded by, how I was feeling the entire time. It's very hard to smile through all of the seething hatred, and appear serene while berating yourself that you didn't do enough to protect those closest to you.
"It took me over six hundred years to learn and finally accept, that no matter how much a pony believes they should've done more, that they could've done more if they simply pushed themselves and tried harder, there are simply situations where no amount of effort can ever be enough to prevent certain events from happening. None of us want to believe that, because guilt won't allow us accept simple truths about our inability to meet our own unreasonable demands, but that is most certainly the case. I couldn't save Luna from Nightmare Moon, Luna couldn't stop Nightmare Moon from using her body to kill her victims, Discord can't fix Twilight's core, and Ulquiorra couldn't protect the city of Las Noches.
"So tell me, Thunder Strike. Why would I be disappointed in the Royal Guard not being able to outclass me?"
"You... you wouldn't, Ma'am," Strike replied, his voice noticeably weaker and less composed as he spoke. "You're... you're not an unreasonable tyrant, Your Highness..."
"No, I'm not. All that I've ever asked of anypony, is that they simply do the best they can, that can reasonably be expected of them. Sometimes we stumble along the way as we try and figure out what our best is. But stumbling isn't failure, failure is when we give up and don't even try."
"I... I understand, Your Highness. I apologize for my conduct," Strike stated. "And I... I would like to formally withdraw my name from consideration for promotion. I made assumptions I had no place in making, I insulted you, and I've disgraced my office. It's quite apparent that I'm unfit to be Captain of the Royal Guard."
"Lieuten-" Celestia started, before stopping herself and sighing. "Thunder Strike. I don't want to dissuade anypony from striving to better themselves. And if you genuinely believe that you're unfit, I'll willingly accept your request. But unreasonable expectations don't help anypony, they just set us up for failure; as we just talked about."
"I... I just want to make the Royal Guard proud of what I can bring to them, Your Highness," he replied, unable to bring his voice up to the same tone he'd used previously. "So many fine ponies have dedicated their lives to the institution, entire families have served from one generation to another like a family tradition... they don't deserve to have their commitment besmirched by somepony who's unwilling to pull their weight, and I will not allow myself to be the pony that does that to them, Your Highness. The Royal Guard deserves the very best that I have to offer them. You deserve the very best that I have to offer."
"Thunder Strike, I've seen your service record for myself. I know about the level of commitment you've brought," she stated. "Ever since you came to work here, you've pulled every Hearths Warming shift, every Hearts and Hooves shift, every Summer Sun shift. You max out on overtime every single month, you haven't once put in for any vacation time, you've never even taken a single sick day. In terms of hours worked, you've contributed more than any other guard has in the same time frame. Just how much more can you reasonably expect to offer?"
"I'm prepared to take additional shifts and work more hours if needed, Your Highness," he replied.
"More hours?" Celestia asked in disbelief. "Thunder Strike, you're already logging more hours than anypony else at the palace apart from Luna and myself. I respect your willingness, but I won't have you do anything that drastic. I'm surprised you even have time for eating and sleeping as it is."
Just the idea of such a notion. All she could do was shake her head in response. Who was giving the guards such ridiculous ideas anyway? First it was Lance thinking that a ninety five on the exam was a failing grade, and now it was Strike thinking he wasn't working hard enough. She wasn't about to ask him to contribute more than he already was.
"With all the hours you log already, you'd have to cut out whatever time you have for rest and relaxation. And I'm not about to ask anypony to do that, outside of a declared state of emergency," she stated.
"Relaxation, Your Highness?" he asked.
The question had been peculiar, and brought her attention back to him. Only then did she notice he was just standing there with a curious, perplexed look on her face, as if she'd suddenly started speaking a foreign language that he didn't understand.
"Yes, relaxation. You do relax, right?" she replied slowly as she observed his response. Which in this case was just silence and a confused blink. "Thunder Strike, if you don't mind my asking, how exactly do you unwind when you're not working? What exactly do you do when you're not on duty and have free time to yourself?"
"I practice so I can keep my skills adequately sharp, Your Highness. Standing at attention, marching, refraining from distracting physical stimulation like random itches that pop up at inopportune times. Cleaning my armor so it remains presentable, basic calisthenics to remain physically in shape, fine-tuning my magic for greater precision in use. I'm trying to read books from across the room so I can learn to spot minute details at a distance that might indicate something is out of place. If I have the time, I reread training manuals to ensure my knowledge about rules and regulations is both correct and accurate, as well as up to date in the event of a revision being released," he explained.
Celestia sat in stunned silence, all but staring at the stallion before her. This was definitely not the type of answer she'd been anticipating, and that fact left her... concerned. Was he really so dedicated to service that he honestly didn't know how to relax? Or could he simply not relax?
"Thunder Strike," she started slowly. "Even during the darkest of times that our nation has faced, I've never asked any of my guards to be that dedicated in their service. I've never encouraged them to stop being the ponies who they were. Even Shining Armor took time off from work. What... where... where does this sense of dedication come from? Whatever inspired you to go to such lengths in your service? Frankly I'm more than a little concerned," she stated.
Once again, Strike didn't immediately respond to the question. But his stoicness was less than last time, and it was a bit easier to pick up on his discomfort and unease as he tried to figure out what to say; his chewing at his bottom lip was a big giveaway this time that'd been previously absent.
"... Because neither the organization, nor you, deserve anything less than the absolute best that I can offer," he replied. "Your Highness, all my life, all that I've ever wanted, was to be a member of the noble Royal Guard. To be part of something bigger than myself. It's been my dream for as far back as I can remember, ever since I first learned about them in a play. I must've been... five years old at the time."
"A play?" Celestia asked curiously.
Strike nodded. "It was a local production, put on by a theatre troupe for underprivileged foals. It was a matinee anthology, filled with a lot of different acts. But the most memorable one came in the evening when the sun had set, when the local weatherponies could really do their part to make the effects pop."
There was a sudden hitch in his voice as he spoke that Celestia instantly caught. And the slightest trace of a smile that even he was incapable of suppressing, as his brown eyes seemed to shimmer with excitement.
"It was a play simply called "Chess" set on a gigantic chessboard. There were these huge torches standing at the four corners by the rooks, burning brightly to illuminate and add atmosphere, as thunder growled and lightning flashed overhead from the storm clouds that were brought in. At the start a black bishop with a goatee zoomed across the white squares of the board," he said as he waved his right hoof in a sweeping motion, "and struck a white pawn down with his spear, causing him to vanish in a flash of light, and putting the bishop in a position to capture the white queen.
"The white king is having none of this, and raises his sword high, summoning a white knight. The knight storms into the battle and attacks the bishop, overwhelming his pitiful defenses and strikes him with his sword, cutting through him in a flash of light, and putting him in a position to approach the black queen and capture her.
"The black queen commands one of her pawns with an executioner's axe to advance and block the white knight's path of approach with the assistance of his compatriot. But the white knight shows no fear or hesitation as he approaches with purpose and determination and bravery, and clashes with two opponents simultaneously, keeping them at bay with sword and shield alike, first striking down the black pawn with the axe on his left, before turning and doing the same to the pawn with a sword on his right!"
His voice grew in pitch as he gestured with his right foreleg, swinging it fiercely to mimic the act of swinging a sword.
"The black queen is furious at this and summons her own knight, a black knight, to do battle with the white knight and they clash in the middle of the board. They dance around, each fighting to defeat the other, the white knight with his sword, the black knight with his flail, the combat as fierce as their dedication to their respective causes. As the music reaches a fever pitch, as the lyrics being sung can be felt, a stallion's voice declares "To compete, you have to be strong!" just before the white knight successfully strikes down the black knight!"
Another swing of his right foreleg as Strike now stood on his hind legs, his voice growing.
"The black queen is open, but instead of targeting her, the white knight now approaches his real target; the black king, an old and evil stallion whose crown is adorned with a skull, and holds him at sword point, daring him to make his move as he holds him in check, with the voice declaring "To win, you have to be smart!" The black king, knowing he has no moves left to play, bows his head in defeat, acknowledging checkmate.
"In victory, the knight rears up and thrusts his sword to the sky, is struck by a bolt of lightning, and is transformed into a unicorn Royal Guard is full dress uniform and clutching a ceremonial saber, with the voice declaring "Maybe you can be one of us! The few. The proud. The Royal Guard!" as the music ends triumphantly at the climax of the play!"
He stood there, his right foreleg thrust skyward as he posed, mimicking the white knight as he panted heavily. Before finally regaining his composure as he set back down on all four hooves again.
"It was in that moment, Your Highness, I knew exactly what my future was going to be. I was going to be a Royal Guard, I was going to be the best Royal Guard. Not simply the best that I could be, but the best Royal Guard that anypony could ever hope to be.
"While other foals were concerned with silly matters like getting adopted, I was reading everything I could get my grubby little hooves on about the Royal Guard. I read so many adventure tales about their exploits, the dangers they faced in the name of protecting others who couldn't protect themselves, the glory of dedication to something greater than themselves. I would dream about being one of them in those stories. I cobbled together my own guard armor costume for Nightmare Night from bits of cardboard and aluminum foil that I'd scrounged up. I actually wore it every chance I got, even long after Nightmare Night had come and gone.
"I would spend hours in front of a mirror, practicing my salute, my marching, my standing at attention without fidgeting, learning how to resist scratching at a random itch, learning how to be yelled at without flinching or blinking, in the hopes of being the best that could be had. When I ran into one of the play's vocalists years later, I begged her to teach me the words to the song so that I could sing it too. I even taught myself Latin at the library so that I could understand what the lyrics were saying and what they meant. I actually broke out singing that same song the day I graduated from the academy and got my diploma."
He finally needed to stop talking long enough to catch his breath, as a warm, nostalgic smile worked its way over his lips as he chuckled at the memory.
"I used to spend hours just staring up at the recruitment posters around the town. Captain Armor's predecessor, Captain Barrel Roller was featured prominently on them, standing firm at attention and sternly looking forward in the most no-nonsense manner possible, her full dress uniform polished and styled to absolute perfection as her pumpkin orange coat practically popped with nary a hair out of place. She conveyed so much strength, and certainty, and majesty, and discipline, that I could barely comprehend it all. Below her at the bottom was the caption that read "We're looking for a few good ponies. Do you have what it takes to serve?" And I wanted that, Your Highness. More than anything, more than even getting my cutie mark, I wanted to prove my worth and that I could be a Royal Guard, just like her and so many others.
"I threw myself into my schoolwork, studying as hard as I could so my grades would reflect that I was smart. I exercised hard, to the point of physical exhaustion to build muscle, tone my body, and hone my magic to prove that I was strong so that I could serve. I was determined to match earth ponies in strength, pegasi in maneuverability, and other unicorns in magical prowess so that I could be the white knight that would defend and inspire others!
"I applied to the academy, literally the minute I was old enough, and I worked hard, Your Highness. I worked hard to graduate with honors and be the valedictorian of my class. And when my application to work here at the palace was accepted, it was the happiest day of my entire life, because it told me that I had what it took to serve as a guard; to serve in the Royal Guard."
Throughout the explanation, Celestia sat quietly and patiently listened to what he had to say. And as she listened to his story, she wanted to facehoof so, so very hard. She now at least had her answers, as to where Strike's sense of what was expected of the Guard came from.
A recruitment ad. The boy had been motivated by a dramatic, heavily theatricalized recruitment ad!
She made a mental note to review his files and find out just which city Thunder Strike had grown up in, and determine just who had been in charge there. She was going to need to have a very long, very involved discussion with somepony about what was and wasn't appropriate as far as entertainment for foals went.
There was nothing wrong with ponies being inspired by recruitment ads and wanting to join the Royal Guard. But this had been a most extreme case, and was borderline brainwashing. His entire foalhood had been stolen from him by a fleeting dream he'd desperately been chasing after for most of his life, and he hadn't even realized the fact because of how utterly taken he'd been by the glamor he'd seen on display.
To watch a grown stallion, one who rarely showed any trace of emotion in either his voice or his facial expressions, to suddenly speak so excitedly and animatedly that he was practically channeling the essence of Pinkie Pie herself, recounting his time spent watching a live recruitment ad being performed as if it was his fondest foalhood memory, had made her want to wince and even weep. She had wanted to stand up from her desk, march over there, and pull him into tight a hug. But she knew it would be a bad idea to do that.
"Thunder-" she started, her voice threatening to crack as she spoke, forcing her to pause and try to steady herself. "Thunder Strike. I have overseen the growth and development of Royal Guard since their inception. And in all those centuries, not once have I ever met a pony who shared your level of dedication and commitment. If that isn't enough to make them proud of you, then I'm not proud of them."
It was technically the truth. And right now it was the only thing that she could really say. She knew from the moment she heard his words, read his body language, that she couldn't say anything to him regarding her thoughts on the tragedy that his foalhood had been. The only thing she could do at this point was try and run damage control.
"But you are proud of the Guard, Your Highness?" he asked.
She nodded, and smiled. "I am. I'm very proud of them. Both individually and collectively."
"Your Highness... with your permission, I'd like to revise my previous answer."
Once again, Celestia looked to him, curious.
"What could I bring to the Royal Guard if I was promoted? I regret to say that I'm unable to bring anything to the organization that would warrant my being promoted," Strike stated solemnly. "When I was called to your office, this interview was on a very short list of possibilities I could foresee. I came in here, prepared to detail how I would go about bringing the organization back to its former glory. With an emphasis on, and an adherence to, standards and regulations that was in line with what was seen back at the academy. Marching, formation, drills, saluting, etc.
"But you said that you aren't ashamed of the Royal Guard. And if you aren't ashamed of the organization as it currently is, that would mean you don't take issue with the laxness in our formations, our conduct, and our discipline. And if you don't take issue with our lack of refinement, then... then I honestly don't know what I can provide here. My intent to fix what I thought was broken, was my entire motivation for even taking the Captain's exam in the first place. And now I find out it was all for naught. My motivation was selfish, and for that I apologize, Your Highness," he said as he bowed his head.
Celestia honestly wanted to groan at this point. She wanted to groan, and she wanted to find out just who along the line had been responsible for giving her guards these ideas.
"I wouldn't consider that selfish at all, Thunder Strike," she replied as she shook her head, trying her best to remain calm. "You thought there was something wrong with an organization you obviously care very deeply about. And rather than voicing your concerns to somepony else in hopes that they would fix things, you went about trying to address the problem yourself the best way you knew how, because you wanted it to be done right. That's the exact opposite of being selfish."
At hearing this, he raised his head again, uncertain of how to respond.
"The only fault I'm finding here, is the fact your instructors apparently never taught you that the dogmatic adherence to standards demanded at the academy, doesn't translate over into the field where real life is a variable to address. That's on them, not on you. A certain degree of laxness and slack is necessary for the proper working order of any organization; something that I learned the hard way," she continued.
Maybe damage control could involve slipping the truth in here and there, feeding him just enough that he would naturally realize things on his own, and understand for himself without having to be beaten over the head with it all.
"The only fault I can find with you, is being a bit misguided about what makes for good guards. Dedication and adherence to regulations is fine and respectable, but that's only part of the equation. What makes the best guards, are good ponies who will do the right thing and help others when they're in need. Like the time you worked Sergeant Pulaski's shift, so that she could attend her son's piano recital," she concluded.
At hearing the last sentence, a look of shocked horror erupted across his face in response as he inhaled sharply through his nose.
"You... you knew about that?" he asked, honestly sounding terrified as he spoke.
She nodded simply in response. "You stamped her time card, covered her duties for her shift so nopony would know about her absence that day. And then you went and worked your own originally assigned shift on top of that, along with the overtime you normally pull."
"Her-" he all but squeaked out, "her family needs the money, Your Highness. And she doesn't have anymore paid time off for the year," he explained while desperately trying not to tremble where he stood.
"I'm aware of that. But what I find most interesting, is the fact that she didn't even ask you to do that for her. You just did it of your own volition, despite knowing such a practice is technically against regulations," Celestia continued.
"A... A-A guard must always be loyal, to command and comrade alike! Without loyalty there can be no trust, and without trust there is nothing!" he stated, his voice shaky as he spoke in recitation, desperately trying to remain at attention and struggling to simultaneously keep looking forward while also not looking directly at Celestia.
Over on Celestia's end of the desk, this was definitely not how she'd thought this would go. Spooking him certainly hadn't been what she'd wanted to do.
"Lieutenant, at ease! Stand down!" she stated as she stood up from her chair. "I wasn't saying that because you're in trouble. You didn't do anything wrong. You helped out somepony who you could see was in need, and even put yourself in a position of preventing somepony else from committing such a violation themselves. All of it done freely of your own volition, all without ever being asked, or otherwise seeking compensation for your actions."
This seemed sufficient to bring Strike's attention back to her again, although she could see that he was still on the verge of panic, and at risk of hyperventilation.
"Thunder Strike, I need you to pay very close attention to what I'm about to tell you," she stated, speaking slowly and deliberately so that he would be able to understand what she was saying. "One thing that every guard must come to understand for themselves, is that sometimes rules and regulations can cause more harm than they prevent. Sometimes, regulations have to be violated in order to do good; like breaking down somepony's door because their house is on fire and they may be trapped inside.
"A steadfast and dogmatic adherence to rules and regulations may be fine in theory, but never in practice when this adherence leads to even worse harm being done because those rules got in the way. Had you not done what you did, Sergeant Pulaski would've been forced to choose between missing her son's piano recital, or missing paid time at work, with either option potentially hurting her family. You did exactly what you were supposed to do."
"You... you want the guards to violate regulations, Your Highness?" he asked, obviously confused.
"When necessary, Thunder Strike, when necessary. The last thing that I need, or want, is a palace full of guards who're more afraid of saving lives, than they are of breaking regulations, because of what some shoddy instructor at the academy might've drilled into them. I don't need unthinking automatons who only know how to do what they're told. I need guards who'll listen to their heart when it tells them that something is very wrong and needs to be addressed, regardless of who's responsible for the wrong," Celestia stressed.
The look of confusion just continued remaining plastered on his face, as if this was the first time he'd ever heard this notion. But considering what she knew, that might very well be the case. For all she knew this was the first time he'd ever been put into a position of being confronted with something that wasn't purely black and white.
"Thunder Strike. Lieutenant Strike. Please try to understand what I'm saying. Yes, the chain of command is important and has its place, I don't deny or dispute that fact. But at the same time I don't need suck-ups and yes-ponies surrounding me; that's what got us into the pastry wars in the year eight-fifty ANM," she continued, hoping to get the point across to him. "And anypony who expects to serve as Captain of the Royal Guard, had better be prepared to vocalize their disagreement with me, if they have grounds to believe it's warranted. I'm old, I'm not perfect. I've made mistakes in the past, I'm still making mistakes today. And if somepony is too scared to call me out on that because of my office, who does that serve to benefit?"
"... N-nopony, Your Highness," he replied slowly. "Nopony is benefited in such a situation."
She smiled and nodded in response. He at least understood that much.
"The best guards are the ones who do the right thing, regardless of what that might involve," she stated and smiled.
Immediately he looked back up at her, the look of confusion and unease giving way to a look of determination.
"You have my word, on my honor as a Royal Guard, Your Highness."
"I'm glad," she replied. "That's one reason why I've come to value Ulquiorra's counsel as much as I do; he's not afraid to tell me to my face what I need to hear. If he disagrees with the way I'm doing things, he lays out the reasoning as to why he disagrees in a logical, coherently thought out manner, and explains what could or should be done instead. He takes the time to present his points so I can thoroughly understand where he's coming from, and determine for myself if I agree with him."
"Then... then the Espada wasn't brought in to replace us, Your Highness?" Strike asked.
"What? Oh Goodness, no!" Celestia objected and vigorously shook her head. "No, Thunder Strike, not at all. Ulquiorra is competent at what he does, but even he can't possibly see to all of Equestria's defense needs by himself. He's not anywhere near that good. His greatest contribution to our defense is his skill in logistics, tactics, and problem solving. He can't replace Twilight and her friends, and he certainly can't replace the Royal Guard."
It really wasn't a lie. Not even close to a lie. Just... not the entire complicated truth of the matter. If anything it was more like the highlights of the full story concerning Ulquiorra's presence in their world.
"Neither the Royal Guard, nor Twilight and her friends, are any less important now than they were prior to his arrival. On more than one occasion he's made it clear that he needs our assistance, and our familiarity with the world; something that he simply doesn't possess. He needs us to act as his eyes, ears, and understanding of what's going on in our world, so that he can respond accordingly. In a sense we're all in this together, and have to rely on each other for what parts we can play. That's why he made the suggestion that you be placed on Rainbow Dash's suicide watch."
Thunder Strike was practically floored by hearing this statement, completely unprepared for it and left stammering in the wake, nearly even dropping his helmet in the process.
"The... the Espada picked me to watch over and protect her?"
"He did."
In truth Ulquiorra had played no part in the selection process of which guards would be tasked with keeping Rainbow Dash alive, that had fallen to her and Luna. But it had still been his suggestion on how to proceed, that had seen Thunder Strike assigned watch duty. And it had been the Lieutenant's service record that had earned him that trust and consideration. So technically it was the truth.
The brief, relieved -even proud- smile that flashed across his face at the news was enough to make her want to smile in turn. But first there was still work that needed to be done.
"And as to the matter of Twilight and her friends, I'm afraid that's my fault."
The smile on Strike's face was quickly replaced by another look of confusion.
"I don't understand, Your Highness. How can you be at fault for them protecting Equestria?"
"Through an unfortunate sequence of events. Back during the reign of Discord, the Elements of Harmony were more open-ended and could be used by anypony with a good heart. That's how Luna and I used them to defeat him and restore peace and order to Equestria. That's how I managed to use all six of them myself when Luna fell to Nightmare Moon's influence. But being forced to use them against one I loved so dearly caused my connection to them to be severed, and they were rendered five useless stones that couldn't be used by anypony.
"Twilight and her friends managed to revive them, but the process in which it was done served to bind the Elements to the girls, making it impossible to reassign them to more qualified individuals. That connection will remain for as long as those girls are alive, meaning they have no choice in the matter but to be an integral part of Equestria's safety and well being. They weren't given a say in what they wanted, and now it's too late for them to have any say. I spent months trying to find a way to break that binding, so that they wouldn't have to face dangers on their own. But it seems once the Elements make up their mind, nothing can serve to sway them, not even a former bearer herself.
"For better or worse, they're but one more branch of Equestria's defenses. Just like the Royal Guard, and Ulquiorra, and everything else we currently have in place to ensure the safety of those that reside within our nation," Celestia concluded with a huff.
So many things that needed to be said. But not nearly enough time to properly vocalize all of it. Nor enough time to dwell on such matters. There was still work that needed to be done, and these distractions were taking far too long. She still had an interview to conduct and get through, along with far more paperwork afterward.
"Lieute- Thunder Strike," Celestia began again, "there's still a lot of work that has to be done, in order to determine which of you five gets promoted. But if I'm being honest, I don't believe you have what it takes to serve as Captain of the Royal guard."
"I under-"
"Let me finish, please," she politely interrupted. "This has nothing to do with your level of dedication to serving, or your service record, or anything else like that. Lieutenant, I have no doubt you would do everything in your power to prove your worth as Captain if you were promoted. In fact I'm certain you would.
"But that level of dedication, that seemingly compulsive need to prove your own worth, is a two-edged sword and would cut you just as deeply as what you would wield it against. You nearly had a panic attack at finding out I knew you worked Sergeant Pulaski's shift. What do you think would happen if you were put into a position of authority, and saw every guard on the day and night shift as extensions of yourself?"
"... I would probably be found by the cleaning staff, dead at my desk..." he surmised slowly.
That wasn't exactly what she had been alluding to, but it was certainly one of the foreseeable possibilities for a stallion that was so high strung. So at least he understood that for himself.
"I'm sorry, Thunder Strike, but I just don't believe you're cut out for the position; not right now anyway. Perhaps sometime in the future, things will be different."
It was a very difficult thing for her to say properly. But at the moment she only had herself to blame for that difficulty.
"Dismissed."
He nodded, before slipping his helmet back atop his head, and turning to depart from her office, leaving her behind with her paperwork and whatever final determinations she needed to make.
But he stopped just before he reached the door, and turned back around to face her.
"With all do respect, Your Highness, you're wrong," he stated, trying to look serious in firm, but in truth he looked like he was scared stiff. "A-about your assessment on the Elements of Harmony. That's on Nightmare Moon, not on you. She deliberately put you in a no-win situation, where you had to choose between saving your sister and saving your subjects, because she knew you couldn't choose both. If you spared your sister, the planet would've been tidally locked, with one side becoming a frozen wasteland, and the other a burnt desert, with neither side capable of supporting life. You weren't give any choice, you did what you had to do, not what you wanted to do.
"Twilight and her friends, and the part they have to play, that's all on Nightmare Moon, none of it is on you. She's the one who didn't give them any choice in the matter."
That certainly wasn't what she'd been expecting to hear, and certainly not from him. But it made her smile regardless; both because of the content, and the fact that it was coming from him. Perhaps the seeds she'd tried to plant were already starting to take root.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Strike. I appreciate that," She replied as she smiled.
He simply nodded, before turning to make his way for the room's door once again.
"Lieutenant?"
This time it was Celestia speaking up, just as his hoof rested on the doorknob, bringing his attention back to her.
"This "play" that you spoke about, it's quite obvious it was important to you. And you actually learned the song that was used during it. Would you say it was impactful?" she asked.
He nodded in response, with a fair bit of enthusiasm in the gesture. "Very impactful, Your Highness. The music and the lyrics are what tied everything together and made the play what it was. I don't think it would've worked without it."
"I see," she replied. "Lieutenant, would you consider doing me a small favor before you go? I'm quite curious, and I'd like to hear this song that was responsible for bringing you to us. And you did go through all the trouble of learning another language in order to sing it. Do you think you could sing it for me?"
At first Strike didn't respond, simply standing there with a blank, confused look on his face, as if he hadn't understood the question and his brain had gone into lockup from trying to decipher what was being asked of him.
But the confusion was quick to clear up, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open in realization, before it quickly snapped shut and he nodded vigorously as he understood what was being asked of him. He licked his lips, cleared his throat once, twice, and then began.
Fides Victus Patria Victus
Celestia listened as he sang, no hint of hesitation or discomfort in his voice, or awkward stumbling through the pronunciation of an obviously old and foreign language, as the words poured freely past his lips with a fluidity few could truly match.
It had been a very, very long time since she'd heard anypony speaking Latin fluently; long enough that her own understanding had gotten a bit rusty from disuse. But it was still serviceable enough that she could get the gist of what the lyrics were speaking about.
But while the pronunciation alone was impressive, it was only part of what held her attention. What really held her interest right now was the sheer amount of passion that his voice carried as he sang so freely, from a place that was obviously very important to him. A degree of passion that she'd never seen from him in all of his years of service, due to how restrained and guarded he always kept himself.
Gloria Patria Gloria Patria
And then he reared up onto his hind legs and raised his head high, his voice hitting a vocal range she hadn't initially believed was possible for him to actually hit, based on the otherwise deep tone of his voice as he talked. But he was hitting it regardless of those doubts. This was obviously the point of fever pitch to the song he'd been talking about, as she could practically feel the passion being poured into his words as he sang about Equestria's glory, unashamed and completely oblivious to his surroundings as he gestured with his forelegs as if he were a conducting a choir that was singing rather than him.
She wouldn't be surprised if he was facing down that black knight in his own mind right now, lost in his own world as he valiantly fought with sword and shield for the honor and the glory of the organization that'd laid claim to his heart all those years ago.
Fides Patria Potentia Fi!
The song ended, and he dropped back down onto all for hooves again. He looked winded, but at the same time undeniably happy. Truth be told, he looked the happiest she could ever remember seeing him.
In her opinion the song itself was mediocre and nothing fantastic in and of itself. But the delivery had been nothing short of superb.
"It really is a beautiful song, Lieutenant," she replied. "Thank you for sharing it with me."
"It was my honor to do so, Your Highness."
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I think this chap was pretty alright, anyway Happy New Years dear author and my fellow readers. Here's to a hopeful year full of fun chapters to read still.
It ok not my Favorite but ok
I think this subplot of Celestia trying to hire the new captain of the guard is my favourite subplot. Every person she has interviewed this far I have found funny, this one was kinda sad too though.
Happy New Year
It is nice of you to brought us an update during the holidays.
I am a bit at a loss learning that Tempest has a prosthetic leg, not even sure which one, cause I don't recall the canon one having one, nor do I recall either it been mention previously in your story.
As for Lighting Strick, I went from quite the rapid change of view of this character. I started dismissive of him, seeing him as the stuck up on rules and protocol douche, to cringing on how mad he was and to finally appreciate him as he was just an over zealous but nice guy.
Overall a good and rapid character progression chapter. And if Lighting Strick won't end up captain, he might as well ended up as the military orchestra/choir chef.
I often felt that the royal guard were portrayed as pretty superfluous in mlp. While being inadequate for supper villain's like Nightmare Moon, point being made by the fact they were practically flicked aside when they tried to confront her, but being driven away from their post by the mere bribe of a cake? If the goal hadn't been a measley desire to undermind Rainbow Dash, that could have been a severe breach in security. Maybe Princess Twilight should inform them about the whole situation involving Wind Rider. While he wasn't involved in a national threat, if the guard becomes complacent that it's okay to take bribes without any consequences it could spell disaster.
Thanks for the chapter and Happy New Year!
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My readers deserve the best that I can offer.
As far as I know, the idea of Tempest having a prosthetic leg is an original idea of mine. It was something that was alluded to, back when she and Princess Twilight were talking in the infirmary, when only her right foreleg was sticking out from under the sheet she was using to keep herself covered.
Supposedly the movie was set to the Fury Road soundtrack while it was in production, and I just decided to go with that since Tempest is pretty much Furiosa. That's why her ship was referred to as The Imperator back in chapter 121 during their introduction.
I had to go back and reread my own chapter to make sense of that middle part.
It's not that Thunder Strike is mad or angry during his exchange with Celestia about how the Guard needs to improve. Having to be the one to verbally acknowledge that the organization he's dedicated most of his life to, simply isn't what he thought they were, is an extremely painful thing for him to do and he has to steel his resolve to see it through to the end. It hurts him to have to admit that reality simply can't live up to the hype stemming from 15 years of expectation.
What the readers are witnessing here is a pony who spent his entire childhood desperately wanting to pursue and embody the ideals and beliefs of a bygone era that's long since passed, and whose sense of hero worship is so strong it won't even allow him to contemplate the idea that he might've made a mistake about his choices in life. He dedicated so much time to making himself into the perfect guard, only to be told that it simply wasn't needed or even expected of him.
I know I'm dating myself with this and I just can't find it in myself to care at this point. I was utterly enthralled with the recruitment ads the Marines had in the early 90s. I personally think they literally had the best recruitment ads out of any of the American military branches.
semper fidelis semper paratus.
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It kind of is sad, all things considered.
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Yeah that kind of incompetence won't fly in this Equestria.
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You get it!
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Yeehaw I win!
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Great?
Wonder what Ulquiorra would do to Wind Rider?
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I meant "mad" as in the sense of unhealthily crazy. Though I also forgot that the word has a double signification.
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That might depend on whether Ulquiorra is acting independently, or if the orders come down from Celestia when she learns about such events transpiring. She can't let Spitfire go and have all the fun.
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Oh.
Yes, he certainly has those sort of qualities about him.
Thunder Strike is as much a tribute to the brave men and women who proudly serve their respective organizations, as he is a cautionary tale about how dedication and pursuit of a goal can be dangerous if it's not tempered by reality.
The best way to describe him might be like Izuku Midoriya from My Hero Academia, if he didn't benefit from main character plot armor making his success possible.
When did that bit about the orderly happen? Was that made up or am I forgetting something?
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Chapter 67 supplemental.
Now I'm just imagining the royal guard being led by Donkey Kong. XD
Now that I am done reading this chapter, I must say it did drag on a bit, and I am mildly surprised Celestia didn't give him a month of mandatory leave with a request to enjoy himself.
That said, still a fantastic chapter as always. I find myself genuinely inspired by Thunder Strike. :)
If this is a reference to a bit of dialogue by JARVIS in the Iron Man (2008) film, then I can't believe it took me this long to connect the dots.
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The story is loaded with little bits of dialogue and easter eggs like that.