Tonight I Shall Be Laughter

by Cloud Wander

Captain Bucephalus

Captain Bucephalus, Commander of the Lunar Guard, approached the writing stand that bore The Ancient Chronicle of Night. With grave care, he opened the massive tome, delicately turning the pages wherein was recorded the rich tale of the Lunar Guardians.

This was, of course, only the current volume of the Chronicle. Hundreds of similar books rested, in safety and in honor, against a wall in the basement of the tower, where they formed not only a monument to the grand history of the Guard, but also provided significant structural support for the building.

Bucephalus found it humbling to contemplate the many hooves of his predecessors that had contributed to this work, carefully recording dates and times and personal observations.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon observed. Condition unchanged. Moon set.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon observed. Condition unchanged. Moon set.

Moon rose. Some fog. Mare in the Moon observed. Condition unchanged. Moon set.

Turning to the most recent entries in the Chronicle, Bucephalus felt a bit self-conscious about his own modest contributions.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon observed. Condition unchanged. Moon set.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon observed. Condition unchanged. Moon set.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon— OMG! WTF!!!

That entry was punctuated by an ungainly blob of ink where Bucephalus had lost control of the writing instrument. Later, after the situation had calmed down, he had returned to the Chronicle and attempted to re-work the ink blot into a portrait of the former Mare in the Moon, noting this in a caption to the illustration. Unfortunately, the portrait did little credit to the subject or the artist.

The most recent entries demonstrated that a neat orderliness had returned to the Chronicle.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon absent. Moon set.

Moon rose. Mare in the Moon absent. Moon set.

Bucephalus sighed. It just wasn’t the same, somehow. Still, he completed this evening’s “Moon rose” entry. He decided against noting the Mare in the Moon’s status (“absent”) at this point. The night was young, things could change, one never knew.

Archivist duty completed, Captain Bucephalus turned to his next task. General inspection.

Right then. Bucephalus marched to the main hall of the guardhouse. “General inspection!” he announced. “Fall in!”

Captain Bucephalus snapped to attention. He was, of course, the only one in the main hall of the guardhouse, as he was at present the only member of the Lunar Guard.

Discipline is just as important in a small force as a large one, he reminded himself. Bucephalus presented himself to a wall-mounted mirror and reviewed his appearance with a critical eye.

Not bad, he finally decided. A stormcloud-gray pegasus pony, still in prime condition, sound in wind and limb, still fit for the shining silver armor of a Lunar Guard. Self-discipline, that was the key. A sense of mission, of purpose, and an unstinting devotion to duty. Come what may, there will be no shirking on my watch.

He puffed himself up a bit. Captain Bucephalus: the best knight ever!

“General inspection completed,” he announced to the empty hall. “Dis—missed!”

Bucephalus consulted the duty roster and found that he was scheduled to police the approaches to the Princess’s chambers. Ordinarily, Bucephalus would not have approved of a senior officer performing cleaning duties, but he prided himself that he would never order one of his soldiers to perform a task that he himself would not do. Which was a good thing, considering the circumstances.

The preceding ten centuries had been a bit of a lean time for the Lunar Guard. With their Principal in exile, as it were, there had been little for the Guard to do but monitor the Princess from afar and maintain a state of readiness for Her return.

A full brigade, such as the Celestial Guard, was reasonably deemed unnecessary for such a task. Indeed, it seemed more sensible to assign such duties to a smaller company of dedicated specialists. And, as over the centuries the protocols for the Lunar Guard fully matured, the size of the force tasked for this purpose became smaller and smaller. In the end, an army of one was judged sufficient.

When a young Private Bucephalus had been offered (or rather, directed) to the Lunar Guard, the ambitious pony had leapt at the opportunity. Here, in a smaller command, a hard-working soldier had the chance to prove his quality and move up through the ranks. After several years of dedicated effort, Bucephalus was promoted to the rank of Captain and named Commander of the Lunar Guard.

True, true, it had at times been lonely, maintaining the proud tradition of the Lunars all by himself. He sometimes watched the Celestials on parade and missed the sense of camaraderie with his fellow serviceponies. But Captain Bucephalus liked to believe that his vigil gave him a special kinship-in-spirit with the Princess Herself, he faithfully standing the watch alone while She remained entombed in solitude.

Of course, circumstances had changed dramatically in recent days. The Celestial Guard was still wrestling with the problem of reorganizing the corps in response to Princess Luna’s return. There was, of course, no question but that Captain Bucephalus should remain in command of the Lunars; he had both the seniority and the necessary experience. By rights, the Celestials should have already transferred a company of their finest guards to Captain Bucephalus’s unit, but for some reason the general staff seemed reluctant to put soldiers under his command.

Mired in petty politics, no doubt, sniffed the Commander of the Lunar Guard, as he collected his mop and bucket.

As he approached the Grand Passage to the Inner Chambers, he suddenly became aware of a strange noise ahead.

*badadup badadup badadup… wheeeeeeeeeee… thump!*

*badadup badadup badadup… wheeeeeeeeeee… thump!*

*badadup badadup badadup… wheeeeeeeeeee… crash! Heeheehee!*

Instantly alert for danger, the Commander of the Lunar Guard discarded his cleaning equipment and sprang forward. Invaders! Fear! Fire! Foes! his mind shouted. Not on my watch, you villains! Bucephalus to the fore!

Charging furiously into the Grand Passage, he unexpectedly found himself face-to-face, so to speak, with Princess Luna’s rump.

“Oh, sorry!” cried the Princess gleefully.

*badadup badadup badadup… wheeeeeeeeeee… thump!*

Princess Luna galloped down the length of the Grand Passage, somewhat awkwardly struggling to obtain traction with Her sock-clad hooves on the polished marble floors. After collecting sufficient speed, She then braced Her legs and slid, spinning, down the hallway until She smacked into the wall at the far end.

“Heeheehee!”

For the first time in many years, Captain Bucephalus found himself perplexed. The protocols of the Lunar Guard described, in exacting detail, his duties and responsibilities in every diplomatic, strategic and tactical situation. However, even after a thousand years of refinement, the protocols had failed to address the circumstance of encountering the Principal sliding across the floor in Her socks.

“May I be of some assistance, Your Highness?” he offered. That seemed like a safe opening move.

“Ha ha ha! You can catch me!” shouted Princess Luna, galumphing towards him. She braced and slid.

Obediently, Captain Bucephalus moved to intercept, interposing himself between the wall and the Princess.

The collision was not at all unpleasant, Bucephalus found. Wow. Soft.

Shape up there, soldier! he ordered himself sharply. You’re a fighter in Her Majesty’s Lunar Guards, not some salt-soaked libertine! Duty! Duty! Close your eyes and think of Equestria!

“Hay! This is so much fun!” said the Princess, a bit out of breath. “You know, usually, I hate socks. But these floors are so great!”

Captain Bucephalus felt a swell of pride. He took particular care of the tower’s floors. The trick was to use several thin coats of polish, buffing after each coat, rather than slathering the floor with one thick coat. It was deeply gratifying to know that the Lady Herself approved of his work.

“Your Highness’s appreciation is most welcome,” said Bucephalus, bowing.

There was, however, a small part of his mind that clucked unhappily at the way She demonstrated Her approval. The floor runner had been casually shoved to one side. The framed paintings that lined the hall were now all askew. And one displayed suit of barding had been knocked over and scattered.

“You know, Captain… Bucephalus, is it?” said Princess Luna. “I’ve been here in the tower for more than a week now, and we’ve hardly talked. What exactly is it that you do here?”

Captain Bucephalus drew himself up. “Well, your Highness, as Commander of Your Majesty’s Lunar Guard, it is my honor and privilege to maintain the readiness of the unit for Your Highness’s… um, return. And to maintain a faithful record of Your Highness’s… well, of the Moon.”

Now that he was actually describing his duties out loud, it occurred to Bucephalus that the mission statement of the Lunar Guard, as detailed in the command manual, might require some revision and extension, in light of changed circumstances.

Improvise, adapt and overcome! he told himself.

“And,” Captain Bucephalus continued, “and, of course, to protect and serve Your Highness in every way.”

“Protect me?” asked Princess Luna, quizzically. “From whom?”

Bucephalus waved a hoof vaguely. “From, well, visitors. Curiosity-seekers. Rabble. That sort of thing.”

The protocols had been quite explicit on this point. To secure and maintain the readiness of the unit, the Lunar Tower was strictly off limits to unauthorized personnel. Up until the last week, this duty had chiefly required Captain Bucephalus to shoo tourists away and provide direction to ponies lost in the winding paths of Canterlot. But in the last few days, he had been at times hard-pressed to turn aside the flood of well-wishers and admirers that had washed up on the Princess’s doorstep.

“Wait,” said Princess Luna, slowly and carefully. “Are you telling me that it is your job to make sure that I am alone?”

“I shall ensure that nopony is allowed to disturb the serenity of Your Highness’s repose,” declared Captain Bucephalus proudly.

Princess Luna’s sea-green eyes grew wide. Doubtless, She admires my steadfast devotion to Her well-being, thought Bucephalus.

After a moment, Princess Luna’s face broke into a wide and faintly disturbing grin.

“You know, Captain Bucephalus, you should really try sliding on these floors. It’s quite fun.” Princess Luna started pulling off her socks.

“I’m sure it is quite enjoyable, Your Highness, but…” began Captain Bucephalus.

“I’ve noticed a certain deficiency in the state of the Lunar Tower, Captain,” stated Princess Luna, her manner suddenly business-like.

“A deficiency, Your Highness? I am alarmed to hear this.”

“There is a distinct lack of fun here. Has this not come to your attention before?”

Fun was not something that Captain Bucephalus associated with his duties, this was true. Oh, certainly, when he hung the tower rugs on the clothesline and beat the dust from them, he sometimes liked to fancy himself in combat. Here! Have at you, fellow! Whack! Take that! Whack! Whack!

But, otherwise, no, fun was not included in the index of the Lunar Guard command manual.

“I intend to remedy this situation,” declared Princess Luna, grandly. “Here. Put these on.” She slid her socks across the floor to Bucephalus.

“But, Your Highness…”

She cocked one eyebrow. “Who’s the Princess here?”

“Very good, Your Highness.” Awkwardly, Bucephalus struggled to remove his armored shoes and struggled further to maintain his dignity as he pulled on Her Majesty’s delicately-embroidered garments. Bucephalus could not help observing that, although She appeared little older than a filly, Her Highness was remarkably long-legged. In time, She would unquestionably have Her Sister’s height.

When Bucephalus had completed putting on Princess Luna’s socks, the Princess continued. “Now, then. I plan to approach this fun shortage in a scientific and methodical manner.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“I intend to consult a leading expert in the field of fun and obtain her guidance in this area.”

“A marvelous plan, Your Highness.”

“This will, of course, necessitate my immediate departure from the Lunar Tower, unaccompanied by my Lunar Guard.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Wait… what?”

“Catch me if you can, Captain. Heehee!”

And, with that, Princess Luna spun about and galloped away down the Grand Passage.

Captain Bucephalus stared after her. The Princess leaving the Tower without Her Guard? What should he do? Try as he might, Bucephalus could think of nothing in the Lunar Guard protocols that addressed this situation.

Frankly, Captain Bucephalus was beginning to suspect that the command manual was not entirely adequate in matters dealing with an actual Princess.

Would his fellow Celestials leave their Princess without an honor guard? No, of course not! Bucephalus’s duty was clear: where Princess Luna went, he must follow!

Captain Bucephalus sprang into action, galloping headlong down the Grand Passage. But, strangely, like a memory of a bad dream, though he ran desperately with all his strength, he seemed to move only with the most agonizing slowness.

He glanced down at his galloping hooves. Ah, socks, he thought. Polished floor.

He looked up at the Princess’s rapidly dwindling hindquarters. You would almost think that she planned this.

Furiously, Bucephalus tore the socks from his legs with his teeth and plunged down the hallway.

He negotiated the turn at the end and reached the Princess’s balcony just in time to witness Her terrifying leap over the railing.

“PRINCESS LUNA! NO!” he cried in horror.

Peals of laughter rang through the sky as Princess Luna suddenly swooped into view.

Oh. Right. Wings. That changes matters somewhat, realized Bucephalus.

Well, what do I do now? Bucephalus thought, tapping his helmet. How do I follow?

He abruptly paused, turned his head and examined his own back. Wings! Right! I’m a pegasus pony! Flying inside the Lunar Tower was a breach of protocol, of course, so Bucephalus often went weeks without lifting his hooves from the ground. He sometimes forgot that he had ever flown at all.

Never let it be said that the Commander of the Lunar Guard was caught unprepared! he thought triumphantly. Onward! Bucephalus to the fore!

Captain Bucephalus charged the balcony railing and leapt skyward. Unfortunately, as he did so, his left rear hoof caught the railing and he was pitched downwards, bouncing off a bit of projecting crenellation into the steeply-angled roof of a lower tower, sliding from there to become entangled in a hanging pennant.

Captain Bucephalus tugged futilely at the web of ropes and canvas that held him. Well, at least it can’t get any worse, he thought.

Then the pole supporting the pennant cracked.

Uh oh.

Still entangled, Captain Bucephalus plummeted three stories into a soft, warm, strongly redolent compost heap.

A storm of laughter rained down on him from the sky.

Captain Bucephalus spat rotten vegetables and earthworms from his mouth. He surged out of the compost and staggered upright. An emotion that he would never consciously identify as anger arose within him.

(“Catch me if you can, Captain. Heehee!”)

That sounds very much like a direct order, Princess, Bucephalus thought, gritting his teeth.

Very well then, Your Highness. It. Is. On!

Comments

[Thorax]

"Moon rose. Mare in the Moon observed. Condition unchanged. Moon set." I just remembered every scene of this story.

"Her sock-clad hooves " I had forgotten that sock were the thing back then, we shall bring them back.

[CoastalSarv]

I loved this when I read it on ED and I love it now.
Bucephalos is the the most Pratchettian character in a very Pratchettian fiction.

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

We need more socks. The socks must come back. Where are you, Sock Swap?!

[Stereotypical Englishman]

Bucephalus is best captain.
Luna is best pony. All HAIL LUNA!!

And this image explains why she's cool and you're not!
global3.memecdn.com/youll-never-be-princess-luna-cool_o_1193035.jpg
...unless you're Batman...or Ace Ventura...or The Master Chief...or Commander Shepard, Prophet/Alcatraz, Faith, Mr T, the characters from The A Team, SPARTAN: 108 or 087 or 058, Artyom, The Battlefield Friends, The Reds and Blues, Agent Texas or Washington, Ben 'Yahtzee' Croshaw, Chell from Portal, GLaDOS, Morgan/Gordon Freeman or The Meta.

[BlueYoshi]

I can imagine Luna sliding on the slick floor with those lovely socks of hers.

[oddhack]

"unaccompanied my Lunar Guard.”

should read "by my Lunar Guard"?

[Cloud Wander]

9907120
*sigh* Always one more error. It makes you wonder about Shakespeare and Dickens. From beyond the grave they cry: "No, you fool! It's a semicolon, not a comma! Aiee!"

Thanks.